#Why no open back hospital gown shots?

[whitehotwild]

oh half dead butcher in a hospital bed my beloved... my legs are wide open for you.

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[covenofagatha]

I went to a new doctor today for the first time... And the (very hot) doctor said "good girl" under her breath when I followed her instructions during part of the physical exam and I nearly died. Is that anything? Doctor!Agatha? Also not sure if I can ever show my face at that doctor's office again.

Good luck the next time you go lol

Hands-on care

You and your boyfriend want to have a baby so you go see Doctor Agatha Harkness at her fertility clinic

Word count: 2500

Warnings: sex, fingering, oral, Agatha is very unethical, cheating, degradation, praise

The decision to have a baby with your boyfriend Matthew was a decision that you made on sort of an impulse. 

You’ve been dating for three years now, after he begged you to go out with him for all of college, and you’ve always wanted a baby. 

You two had talked about it, going back and forth about what that would look like, if you would get married, if you two look to buy a house instead of your one bedroom apartment. 

Matt kept saying the fact that you both couldn’t decide on the little things like that, then it meant you weren’t ready for a baby. So you had put off further discussion about it until one night, you got really drunk. 

Four shots of vodka and no food had you on a different planet, and you had apparently told Matt that you wanted him to put a baby in you that night. 

He didn’t, because you were hammered, but it opened up the door to a heavy conversation the next day and you both decided that you wanted to start trying. 

The Harkness Fertility Clinic seemed like the obvious choice of where to check your fertility and get options, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Everyone in town knew Doctor Agatha Harkness and her extraordinary work when it came to all things pregnancy.

So you booked an appointment and here you are now, staring into space while fiddling with the edge of the hospital gown that the nurse practitioner gave you to put on while you wait for the doctor. 

“You alright?” Matt asks quietly, his brows crinkled. You told him that you would be fine if he didn’t want to come, in case there was bad news, but he insisted. 

You nod and drop the gown. “Just a bit nervous,” you say and he reaches over to squeeze your hand. 

And then there’s a knock on the door and Doctor Harkness walks in, wearing blood-red scrubs and her dark hair tied into a neat bun. 

You didn’t realize how attractive she would be. 

“Hello, how are we today?” She picks up the clipboard from the table next to you and scans it. “It looks like you’re here for a standard fertility check. That will be quick and easy and we’ll have those results in no time.”

It’s hard to breathe with her blue eyes burning through you, but you manage to smile. “Okay, great, we just want to make sure that we won’t have any problems or anything.” Can she tell how hot your cheeks feel? 

She smiles back at you. Hasn’t even looked at Matt yet. “Well, we’re here to make that happen for you.” She launches into an explanation of how the test will happen, something with a speculum, but you are too busy staring at her to fully listen. “Do you have any questions?”

It takes you a moment to realize she’s done talking. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. Thank you,” you stammer and she smirks knowingly.

“Thank you,” Matt says again, causing Agatha to look at him for the first time. Her lips curl and she turns to him with a rather unpleasant look.

“Husband? Why don’t you wait outside while we do this.” It’s not a question, and he blinks at her. He glances at you, like he’s expecting you to tell him to stay, but all you do is shrug. Better to let Agatha do her thing however she wants.

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "I'll be right out there," he vows and you give him a tight smile.

She moves close to you, perches on the side of the recliner you’re sitting on and reaches her hand toward you. You instinctively flinch but relax when all she does is tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. It’s incredibly gentle.

Agatha then trails her hand down the side of your face and grabs your chin, perhaps a little roughly. You let out a gasp that she seems to enjoy too much, and she strokes a finger over your lips. It’s all you can do to not take her thumb into your mouth and suck, and judging by the delighted look on her face, she sees how hard you’re restraining.

It’s so inappropriate. It’s so hot.

“I’ll put a baby in you,” she whispers. Your heart skips a beat. You know she just means fertility-wise you’ll have a baby, but the way she says it makes you wish she was capable of that. “Lie back.” She taps your shoulder and moves to situate herself on a chair by your legs. You spread them hesitantly and put them in the stirrups, knowing your underwear is already wet, just from being this close to her.

The chair rolls to the end of the cot so she's in between your legs now. You turn red again when her eyes drop to you, and she gets a look at what you’re sure is now soaked-through white cotton. Your stomach flutters when she bites her lip, and she meets your gaze with heavy lids.

“Oh, darling,” she says quietly, and you feel her hands moving up your inner thighs and a finger traces up your slit. You can hear the mocking tone in her voice but your hips buck ever so slightly. “I don’t think I’ll need to lube up the speculum with how wet you are.” It’s so wrong and she says it so casually and you didn’t think it was possible to get wetter. But you do, and you know she can tell.

“I’m sorry–” you try to stutter, the humiliation only making the fire inside your stomach grow.

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “I’m flattered, really,” she purrs. You wonder if this happens to her a lot; you definitely wouldn’t be surprised. But surely she wouldn’t still be in business if she flirted with all the patients.

She takes hold of your underwear and drags the pair down your legs, helping your feet out of the stirrups one at a time so she can slip them off. She chuckles and you blush harder than you ever have.

Fuck.

How are you going to survive this?

“Alright, are you ready?” You feel her press the cold speculum against your entrance and you hiss.

“Yes,” you squeak. Back to business. She is a doctor, she is Agatha Harkness. She is a tease, but that is all. You need to calm down.

She eases an inch of the speculum in and you grimace. The stretch burns. It would seem that you are not wet enough.

Agatha holds it still to give you time to adjust. “Relax. You need to relax,” she tells you.

“Easier said than done,” you joke with another wince. And then you feel her finger swipe your clit and you clench around the speculum with a spasm. Just a coincidence? 

“Is your husband not doing anything for you at all? Is his dick really that small? I think I might have to stretch you out first,” she remarks like she’s talking about the weather. You’re not exactly sure what she means but your stomach twists. The speculum is removed and placed on the table next to you. She pulls her gloves off.

“He’s not my husband,” is the only thing you have the effort to correct when she slides her middle finger into you. You let out a shaky breath. Agatha bites her lip, eyes dark.

She slowly thrusts into you, her thumb rubbing your clit every once in a while. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good and she’s barely doing anything. She pushes another finger in and you moan loudly.

“Better quiet down so he doesn’t hear. Not like he’d know what these sounds are,” she muses, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You’re so close, just from her moving her two fingers inside you slowly.

“Please.” It’s all you can say.

You whine pathetically when her fingers pull out and she sits back, hair mussed, a crazed look on her face. She sucks her finger into her mouth, she moans softly, and you almost cum right there at the sight. 

“You’re so deliciously perfect,” she tells you, and grins while you clench around nothing at the praise.

“Please,” you beg again. “I’m so close, I need you.”

“What do you need?” 

You've never been one to voice your thoughts, especially in bed, but Agatha has a way of pulling it out of you. “Please, I need you so badly. Please make me cum. I need you.” You realize maybe being vocal wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to do every once in a while, if it’s going to lead to her leaning down and dragging her tongue up your slit, flicking it against your clit. You gasp and your hands tangle themselves in the loose hair from her bun immediately to keep her there.

You can feel her chuckle against you and the echoes only increase your pleasure. Two fingers enter you again, but this time, she curls them fast, and the palm of her hand hits your clit with every thrust. She mouths at your inner thigh before biting and sucking. Marking you. You throb at the thought of the red marks that will litter your legs.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan.

You won’t be able to be naked in front of Matt for a long time.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut, dripping all over this chair for me,” Agatha comments. “I bet you were wet the moment I walked in. Wanting me to taste you. Wanting me to fuck you like the whore you are.”

You should feel ashamed of how nothing she said was wrong, but you couldn't care less. Part of you is wondering if this is standard protocol for all the women who have trouble with the speculum, or if it’s just you. 

“Dr. Harkness,” you moan and gently tug on her hair. You shouldn’t really be concerned with professionality at this point, what with her head buried between your legs and her fingers inside you and everything, but the title and the hair pull seem to have quite the effect on her. She groans into you and then the real fucking begins.

Her fingers thrust ruthlessly inside you and her tongue thrashes against your clit and you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Dr. Harkness, fuck, please, need more, need you,” you babble, feeling yourself steadily approaching the edge. 

She pauses for a moment to fit a third finger inside you. The stretch is a little uncomfortable and she gives you a second to adjust, and then she’s back to it.

You come with a moan and it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had by far. From the look on her face when she sits back, finally done fucking you through your climax, she knows it.

Her lips glisten with your wetness, but she makes no move to clean them.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re cumming all over my exam chair,” she says, and it takes all of your energy to not laugh at the absurdity of the statement. What did you just do? “Do you think you’re ready for the speculum?”

You’ve completely forgotten why you’re here, but you nod, and she is gentle when she pushes the cold metal in you for a second time. You’re a little sensitive from your orgasm, but it slides in much easier this time. Your walls flutter around it and you almost moan.

"Good girl," she says in a deep voice.

Before you can tell yourself how wrong it is, you hope that next time she uses a strap-on. Next time? No, there can’t be a next time. You know she would make it feel really good though. She fucked you better with her fingers than Matt has in his entire life, so imagine what she could do with a toy cock.

But Agatha meets your eyes and winks and you can tell she’s thinking the same thing.

She tuts with a hint of a smirk, and you flush red again. You know this won’t be the last time the two of you do this, and there isn’t a single part of you that’s upset about it. 

The rest of the check runs quickly and smoothly, and she goes outside to tell Matt he can come back in. 

You’re worried he can smell the stench of sex in the air or that he will notice the slight sheen around Agatha’s mouth and her mussed-up hair, but if he does, there’s no indication.

Figures.

“Your uterus is extraordinary, perfectly shaped for a baby,” Agatha says, voice dripping with sweet venom, pointing to the pictures to show you what she means. “There should be no problems, but you might want to come in here regularly just in case.” Her hand falls to your upper thigh and squeezes. She watches you bite your lip with a smirk.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you agree, and Matt hums. “Thank you so much for your help, it was so great meeting you. 

“Oh, believe me, the pleasure was all mine,” Agatha says smugly, dragging her hand slowly against her mouth, breathing your scent in. You choke on nothing. 

Matt turns toward you, the happiness evident on his face. “We’re going to have a baby!” He exclaims and you wish you felt just a little bit guilty about what you just did. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll let you get dressed and then I’ll see you next time. Have a wonderful day.” Agatha gives you one last wink and leaves. You and Matt quickly pack your things and you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the gown that smells like sex on the chair. There’s going to need to be some serious sanitation of this room.

Matt is clearly ecstatic about the good news, but you’re honestly dreading the thought of having sex with him after that. Plus you have those marks on your thighs. You inwardly curse Agatha and you make a mental note to try and get some concealer or something to hide it. You’re not sure how well you’ll be able to put off sleeping with your boyfriend, especially not now. 

As you’re walking towards the sliding front doors of the building, you hear your name called. It’s Dr. Harkness, standing on the stairwell that overlooks the lobby. Her bun is fixed now, not a hair out of place, and the wetness around her chin has been wiped off. But there’s no denying the dark look in her eyes.

She gives you a wave. “We’ll have that baby in you in no time.” 

You have no doubt. 

[aroace-madness]

DC x DP prompt

Danny was scared, he was straped down on a table with his torso cut open vertically. For some reason they putted him in a medical gown, maybe to stop looking at his suit that was just oh so similiar to theirs? Danny didn't know

He was crying, tears silently spilled from his eyes as his father was elbow deep in his body, lifting his organs one by one, showing them off to his wife and carelessly putting them back in. They didn't care about his screams and cries, why would they, he wasn't sentient according to them, in their eyes he was less than an animal, a germ that needed to be studied and them eliminated

Maybe this was his fate? Perhaps his life was supposed to end this way? As a lab experiment for his own parents?

Danny didn't like his fate, he hated it in fact, he wanted to get away from it and scream

Perhaps this was the answer, a way out

Danny waited untill his parents took their attention off of him

He took a breath as deep as he could

And wailed

Danny didn't want to do this anymore, he wished to just decompress, he didn't want to be hunted for just existing anymore

He wanted his parents to love him again

He wished he was a child again

The ghost wailed and the time listened

Jason was coming back home from a long patrol, luckily he didn't get either stabbed or shot, which was nice, but instead one of his goons messed up pretty badly which instantly ruined his mood

He was about to sit back on his motorbike and ride back to his safehouse when he heard something moving near the trash cans in the alley

He probably should leave, leave whatever made the noise alone

But, after all, Jason was just a man. Can you blame him for being curious?

He slowly walked over to the cans, trying his best not to make too much noise. When he was finally close enough he crouched down to finally see

What he saw shook him to the core

A small boy, two years old at most, dressed in a hospital gown, curled in ball. He was crying and trembling, his arms were wrapped around his torso like he was holding it from falling apart

What concerned Jason the most tho, was a puddle of blood the boy was laying in

[lipglossanon]

Crossing the Frame

Infected!Leon S. Kennedy and fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, one shot, horror, body horror, unwanted insemination, OC, mentions of blood/death/bodily harm, vomiting, reader called chief

not proofread; inspired by the Alien series; something before October—might add more later idk

title from Crossing the Frame by Coheed and Cambria

It’s sudden. One moment you’re empty, a void unto yourself. The next, your eyes are open, unseeing as your brain begins to think again, thoughts filling the crevices of your mind. 

You cough violently, curling onto your side, an homage to your fetal beginnings. Pressing a hand to your abdomen, a skittering fear runs down your spine like spider legs. 

Something isn’t right. 

Closing your eyes, you struggle to remember why you’re here. You were to help an agent… one who had been infected by the Plagas strain. Kennedy, you think. The president’s lapdog. 

Pain radiates through your pelvis and you gasp wetly. It needs out, you think. Followed immediately by, what needs out? What’s inside you? Bile rises in your throat. 

Weak as a newborn kitten, you raise up onto your knees. Turning your face away, you gag and cough, a mix of stringy bile and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

A headache throbs behind your right eye; slipping your glasses off, you cup the socket and gently rub your eyelid. It doesn’t ease the pain—but it doesn’t make it worse—so you give up and put your glasses back on. 

Finally looking around, you take in the mess of what was once the lab. Beakers and burners are overturned, unknown liquid spilling off the surface and onto the floor; papers are scattered about like someone just tossed them before leaving. Another searing cramp makes you double over even further, breasts pressing against the tops of your thighs, hands hugging your stomach as you cry out painfully. 

Once you can breathe without wanting to die, you ease back up, slowly climbing to your feet so you can find help. There’s no one left in the lab and the door’s opened halfway, showcasing an empty hallway as far as you can see. 

Shuffling steps outside halt your own progress—hip digging into a counter as you freeze in place. 

“Hello?” Your voice cracks and you have to clear your throat—the dry heaving from earlier making it sting. “Hello?!”

A rattling breath makes you duck behind the counter—unable to see—only able to hear the door being pressed fully open while those same footsteps shuffle inside. 

“Hello,” a voice whispers, “are you in here, Chief?”

You slowly arch your neck up to peek over the counter. An intern, Andy you recall, looks around the room, hand cupping his side where blood has stained through his lab coat. Pushing yourself up, you use the counter as a crutch in order to stand in place. 

“Thank god! You’re alive!” He smiles, hazel eyes tired and strained. 

“What happened?” You rasp, swallowing to smooth your vocal cords. “I think I have a concussion.”

“The subject escaped. Leon Kennedy,” the intern steps closer, wincing with the movement. “He was infected with—“

“Plagas, I remember that,” you gesture to his side. “What about this? Or why’s the room trashed? I think I’m—“

Infected. The word curdles on your tongue like spoiled milk. 

“I woke up already bleeding,” he moves his coat and shirt aside, showing off the padded gauze and tape keeping it bandaged. “I think I got cut from the window overlooking the observation room. It shattered when he broke out.”

You nod, short flashes of memories coming back to you.  It was early morning when they brought Kennedy in for observation. Dressed in only a hospital gown, his skin looked sallow and washed out. The bags under his eyes made the blue that much darker. His hair seemed to be the only thing that defied his poor health, looking sleek and shiny under the fluorescent lights. 

The examiner had the agent remove the upper half of his gown, letting everyone see the raw and irritated scar from the machine that supposedly destroyed the embryo in his chest. X-rays proved there were remnants clinging to his chest wall—the reason why he had been called in to your lab. 

Being the chief medical officer in charge, you had sat quietly in the audience chamber above the room—watching as the scientists and doctors argued and questioned Kennedy, who only had the scattered notes from his mission to really backup any of his claims. 

They injected him, you remember suddenly. He had reacted negatively, body jerking and twitching before he began to scream incoherently, voice raising in pitch until your vision wavered. The glass splintered and rained down on the room, slicing anything in its path.

The alarm began to blare and you locked eyes with what used to be Agent Kennedy, black washing out his sclera and dark veins overtaking his skin like twisting vines. 

“Are you okay?”

Shoulders jerking upward, you shake your head before looking back up into Andy’s drawn face. 

“Yeah, just trying to make it all make sense.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, clenching his teeth suddenly. “Fuck, I fixed myself up as well as I could, but I definitely need to get help.”

“Of course. Are we still under lockdown?”

“Uh huh,” he sucks in his top lip. “It’s why I came this way. I was hoping to find your keycard.”

In case you were dead rings as loud in the room as if he had spoken it. Reaching down, you hold up your lanyard. 

“Lucky for you, I didn’t lose it.”

You both smile even if it’s an empty consolation. 

“Do you need help walking?” You point to his side. 

“I’ll be alright as long as we don’t have to run.”

Both of you know if it comes to that, neither of you would be making it out alive. 

Slowly making your way out of the specimen room—why were you even in this room?!—the intern follows behind you, quiet and careful. The two offices you pass by are empty, not a pencil out of place. The hallway itself doesn’t look like anything is off. A blaring light by the exit’s the only thing to signify anything is awry. 

Leaving the safety of the hallway, you hold the door open for Andy, letting it fall shut once he’s past the threshold. 

“Do you know why I was in this section?” You turn to him, keeping pace instead of walking out in front. 

He shrugs, “Everyone kinda went their own way once he got out. I think someone said you needed to grab the data on the latest test batch?”

You pat your pockets and find a small thumb drive in your overcoat. 

“Okay…” 

You frown down at it, mind still entirely blank. 

“He—“ Andy cut himself off. 

“He what?”

“The subject followed after you. I don’t know if they stopped him or anything like that. I kinda passed out,” he gave you a bitter smile. “I guess at least I wasn’t outright killed.”

“So he killed people?”

Andy nodded, “We’ll pass a few colleagues. Rose and Dr. Kline. Others are too bad to guess.”

You feel a pang of sadness, “That’s awful.”

The intern doesn’t say anything, eyes cast down to the floor. You let the conversation go, splitting your attention between your surroundings and the young man walking next to you. Surprisingly, it’s an uneventful walk out of the research and development area. But once you meet the intersection between it and medical, everything changes. 

The door slides open with a low hiss and you freeze, the salty tang of copper wafting out. The stench of blood and god knows what dogs your footsteps as you guide Andy through the carnage littering the floor. 

“It’s so much worse than before,” he whispers. “It’s like he came back.”

Fear makes your legs weak but you press on, eyes darting around for any movement, ears straining for any odd sounds. The alarm system wails in the distance, amber emergency lights pulsing in time with the sound. You eventually pass by Dr. Kline and his assistant Rose, mutilated in ways that turn your stomach. Andy touches your arm and you push past the bodies, eyes eagerly seeking out the red EXIT sign attached to the stairwell door. 

You touch the handle and a searing bolt of agony rips through your abdomen, like something with a mouthful of teeth is shredding your uterus. It hurts so much you can’t even make any noise, collapsing onto your knees, hands wrapped around your middle like it will stave off the pain. 

“Chief?!”

Andy tries to kneel but groans, legs shaking as he rights himself, hand grasping your shoulder. 

“I can’t,” his voice breaks, “I can’t lift you, Chief. Please, stand up. We’re almost out.”

You open your mouth to reply and puke, bile rushing up from your stomach to stain the floor. Eyes watering, you dry heave for far longer than last time until your body has nothing left to give. 

“Please,” the young man whimpers, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

A shaky hand reaches up to pat the one he has in your shoulder, “I-I’m okay. I think.. I think I’m sick. I don’t know if it’s safe to even be around me.”

Standing up, he doesn’t pull away. 

“We both probably are,” he mumbles, eyes drifting to the door. “But we gotta try.”

You press a hand to your abdomen, “No, Andy. I think I’m—“

“A host.”

A new voice cuts in—low, humorous. You both turn, the young man beside you grabbing your bicep with an iron grip. It takes a second to spot who spoke. Eyes partially concealed by blood soaked fringe peek from around the corner, an off shoot hallway in the opposite direction of the emergency exit.

One hand with abnormally long fingers, creeps over the edge like a deformed spider. The nails look like sharp little talons, and what skin you can see is dark, dry and scaly. 

“He’s, he’s not—oh god, what is he?” Andy whispers, and you shake your head. 

“I don’t know.”

Kennedy laughs and it floods your body with chills. 

“I’ve evolved,” he speaks, voice normal in complete opposition to his looks. “She will be, too.”

Andy subtly tugs your arm and you both take a step back, eyes never wavering from the eerie stare from the creature in front of you. A chittering noise comes from Kennedy and his other hand joins the first, splaying wide against the wall. 

“It was so easy to make you a host,” he laughs again, eyes glittering. “And you didn’t even lose any blood.”

The pair of you make another shuffling step back before those dark eyes narrow. You snap your CAC off of your lanyard clasp and press it against the hand Andy’s using to grip your arm. 

“Take it,” you hiss under your breath. “Go first, get to the containment ward. If everything’s gone to shit, activate the evacuation code and seal yourself off from here.”

“What about—“

Tears drip from your eyes, “I’m contaminated. Please, Andy, just get out of here. I’ll try my best to buy you time.”

“Okay,” he lets out a wet sounding breath. “Okay, Chief. I-I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”

You nod and he finally lets go of you, the heat at your side slipping away. Listening to his shuffling steps, you hear the security pad beep, followed by the stairwell door swinging open. It closes with a soft snick, but you don’t turn away from the pair of eyes in front of you.  

“You knooow you can’t stop me,” that chittering noise again making you realize that’s his laugh. “But it’s sweet of you to give him a head start.”

The cramping in your abdomen is beginning to flair up again but you grit your teeth and take a half step back. You continue walking backwards until your back bumps the door. Hating having to lose sight of him, you turn your sights on the security pad. You make quick work of it, you pull the lab ID card from your pocket, slide it into the slot, and snap off the bottom. The pad blares red—ERROR repeating itself across the small screen. 

“Do you think that’ll stop me?”

He murmurs directly behind you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You’re too scared to turn around. 

“Probably not, but it invokes a building wide security warning and shutdown,” voice trembling, you reply. “It also alerts the Agency that there’s been a breach.”

He hums, “Clever. Not that it matters.”

Those hands of his, basically scaly claws at this point, wrap their disjointed fingers across your waist and interlock—trapping you in place. The parasite in your body trashes wildly, cramps perforating your abdomen until you become only pain; your legs tremble, weight now held up by the monster’s hands—fear overriding the incessant will to live. 

“It needs out,” he croons, a strange clicking echoing behind you—like mandibles, you think almost deliriously. “Doesn’t it?”

Glancing down, you catch a segmented tail slipping away, tipped with a hardened exoskeleton that looks sharp enough to pierce. Gray begins to creep into your vision as your legs fully give out, Kennedy’s odd hands catching you underneath your breasts, pressing on your ribs so hard you feel the muscles shift.

You’re able to catch sight of his mutated face before passing out; too horrified to scream, you welcome the reprieve of inky darkness. 

[roosterforme]

The Grateful Dad Part 2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't believe you and he are about to be parents. Just when he was getting used to the idea of how his life would be, the two of you get an unexpected surprise. And by your third trimester, when you make a promise to him and then break it, he's left to deal with some things in his own.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, smut and pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Read Part 1! Check my profile for my masterlist

It didn't fully hit Bradley until the first time he noticed that soft swell of your belly. It seemed to sneak up on him, the way it took several months before it was noticeable. But once it was there, it was all he could think about. 

He was going to be a dad. And you were going to be a mom.

"Sugar," he whined that first day he noticed it. "You have a bump." You were lying in bed, trying to read as he pushed your tie dye shirt up a few more inches. "This wasn't here yesterday."

You set your book down and glanced to where his hands were resting gently on your belly. "I guess I do have a little bump," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair as he kissed the spot just above your belly button. "My wool skirt is getting snug for work, but I thought I was just bloated."

Bradley was mesmerized. "Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, glancing up at you with a grin. 

"Do you really care?"

"Not at all." He kissed your bump and started humming his favorite Grateful Dead song. Bradley knew this was likely the only time you'd want to get pregnant. Your career was important to you, and you were already concerned about the baby coming before the end of your spring semester. You said you were going to have to take the following fall semester off from teaching, because you didn't want to let down the math majors at San Diego State University where you taught calculus. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you," he sang to your belly before abruptly rolling over in bed. 

"Where are you going?" you asked him with a laugh. 

He grabbed his phone and opened his music app, mumbling, "The baby should get to hear the Grateful Dead perform it. Sounds better than when I sing."

He queued up the song and placed his phone near your belly as it started. "I don't know. I kind of like your version, Beer Boy," you promised, and he kissed your lips before pushing your shirt up high enough so he could see your tattoo of the song lyrics. 

"That's good, because I'll never stop singing it," he whispered, running his nose along your tattoo. He placed one hand gently on your belly and sang along.

--------------------------------

"I'm so excited," Bradley whispered for the seventh time in five minutes. "I don't think I've ever been this excited before. I also kind of feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Relax," you whispered, taking his hand. If he was this bad today when you were getting a high definition ultrasound, maybe you didn't want him with you when you actually delivered the baby.

"I just want to see the bean," he mumbled, practically bouncing in the waiting room chair. 

You tried not to smile, because he actually looked a little pale and nervous. "We don't even get to find out the sex today."

"Yeah," he replied, exasperated, "but we get to see the bean, Sugar. Up close and personal."

When they called your name a minute later, Bradley jumped out of his seat and dragged you down the hallway. He paced around the first room while you had some blood drawn. And then he paced around the next room while you waited for the technician to come in.

"Why did they call us back if they weren't ready?" he grunted, eyeing you up and down as you sat on the exam table in a hospital gown. "This is taking for fucking ever."

"Watch your language in front of the baby," you scolded, and his eyes went wide.

"Shit, you're right. Oh, fuck. Damn it!" You were cracking up now as he sat down with his forehead resting on his palms. "I'll get better, I promise!" 

"You have about six more months to shape up your act." 

He thought about everything he had planned for the next six months. Buy a crib and a stroller. Put a car seat in the Bronco. Paint the extra bedroom. Put those little plastic safety things in all the outlets in the house. 

When the exam room door opened, he jumped to his feet as a woman in pink scrubs walked in. "Hi, I'm Elaine! Sorry for the long wait, but we were double checking your blood work," she said walking toward you.

"What's wrong with the blood work?" Bradley asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. The desire to throw up returned, and he was reaching backwards for the arm of the chair. 

"Nothing at all," she replied smoothly, helping you lay back on the table and opening the hospital gown. "A lot of different levels were elevated, so we wanted to be sure. But if you're ready to see the babies, then we can get started."

"Babies?" you and Bradley nearly shouted in unison as Elaine opened the software and turned on the gigantic monitor. 

"Yes," she replied with a smile. "You're having twins."

Bradley nearly collapsed back into the empty chair. "Holy shit. Holy shit, Sugar!"

"Twins?!" you asked Elaine. Bradley couldn't tell if you were excited about the idea or not, but he was thrilled. Two babies? In one go? This was better than getting a promotion at work. This was almost as good as his wedding day. Almost as exciting as when you and he reunited in Virginia after ten years apart.

When you reached out your hand toward him, Bradley rocketed out of his seat to get to you. "Are you happy?" he asked, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your forehead. 

"I... I think so. I think I'm kind of shocked."

"Me, too. But in a very, very good way."

As the two of you watched the monitor while Elaine moved the wand around on your belly, Bradley's eyes filled with tears. He had never seen anything so sweet in his life. 

"Two little beans," you whispered, and Bradley watched you cry as you smiled. When he nodded, you added, "Yes, I'm happy."

But when Bradley got you settled at home, his apprehension started to creep in. You were clearly tired. You were the one growing the twin beans. He probably wasn't doing enough. As you slowly dozed off in bed wearing his old Grateful Dead shirt, he watched your lips part, soft breathing taking over. 

His thoughts drifted to his own parents. He could only remember how much pain his mom had been in before she died, and he could barely picture what his dad looked like unless he had a photo in his hand. 

Bradley could feel his heart rate pick up, the rapid pounding filling his ears started to make him feel crazy. He sat up in bed, trying to catch his breath. "Fuck," he muttered. He was going to mess this all up. He didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't remember his dad. And all he knew was that his mom somehow made him feel safe without really doing anything that he could model his behavior off of. Carole just made everything seem effortless, which was not helping him right now. 

He bolted out of bed, and then your eyes were open and focused on him. "What's wrong?" you asked groggily. "I need you to snuggle with me."

He studied your pretty face and your earnest expression. "What if I suck at being a dad?" he blurted out.

You set your head back down on the pillow and reached out for him with one hand. "You're good at everything else. You'll be good at this, too."

"But what if I'm not?" he demanded. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I barely even had a dad." He thought of the navy desk lamp and how he'd followed in his father's career path and how he somehow knew Nick had loved him. 

"You've never let me down yet, Beer Boy." Your soft words and the way you reached for his hands were enough to get him back into bed. And then his pulse returned to normal as you wrapped him up in your arms. This time he was dozing off before you were. 

----------------------------

Bradley went sprinting out of work at the beginning of lunchtime. If Maverick kept them one minute longer, Bradley would have earned himself some push-ups for insubordination. It was your anatomy ultrasound scan day, and now he was going to be late meeting you there.

"Fuck," he groaned as he yanked down the zipper of his flight suit a few inches as he pulled out into traffic. He was trying so hard to stop swearing, but days like this just called for the f word. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled, weaving around cars.

He wanted to know more about the twin beans. You and he had been talking about names, and he was beyond excited about everything. Last weekend he had painted the nursery a soft gray color and assembled two cribs. He even ordered a variety of matching tie dye onesies. Then you told him he did a great job and pushed him down on the floor on the new cloud shaped area rug in the nursery. His reward was getting to run his hands all over your round belly and tits while you rode him.

Bradley was in love with you and the babies, and being late today was making him upset. You were already on the exam table with the technician when the receptionist led him back to the room.

"Oh good, you're here," you sighed as he rushed toward you and grabbed your hand.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he whispered, kissing your forehead and then your belly.

The technician smiled as Bradley knelt next to the table with his hand in yours. "Let's begin?" the technician asked. And when you nodded, he rubbed some gel on your belly and ran the wand slowly back and forth until those adorable beans were on the monitor just like last time.

"They got so big!" Bradley said, proud of how nicely they were growing.

"They are measuring right where they should be," the technician said, pausing the screen to take some pictures. "And I can tell you the sex for both of them if you want to know."

"Yes!" Bradley nearly shouted, looking up at your beautiful face as you laughed. "Please!"

"Okay, here we go."

It felt like an eternity as Bradley gripped your hand, waiting to be informed about what he was looking at on the screen. You were stroking his knuckles with your thumb, always so calm and analytical. 

He glanced at your face and watched you as the technician said, "Baby number one right here is not shy at all. He's waving hi."

"He?" Bradley was on his feet, trying to get closer to the screen. 

"Yes. A boy," the technician said.

"Another little Beer Boy in the making," you said before Bradley leaned down to kiss you.

He was sure he looked ridiculous as he said, "Nah, he'll be so much better than me. He's half you."

The way you smiled up at Bradley had him kneeling next to you again. "What about baby number two? Can we look at that bean now?" he asked, squeezing your hand. 

"Okay," the technician said, drawing Bradley's attention toward the screen again. "And baby number two...well she's trying to hide behind her brother, but there she is."

Bradley shouted, "Yes!" so loudly that you and the technician both jumped a little bit. "Oh my god, Sugar!"

"One of each," you whispered, covering your lips with your shaky fingers. 

"This is exactly what I was hoping for, but I didn't want to say it out loud," he whispered against your ear before kissing you all over your face. "Two little beans. One of each!"

You wrapped your arms around Bradley's neck and said. "You don't know how easy it is to love you."

------------------------------

"I'm not going to make it," you moaned, laying on the couch while Bradley made dinner while his phone rang. You were at the start of your third trimester. You were huge. You were always hungry. It was getting hard to stand up for your lectures that were longer than an hour. And Bradley was the only thing holding you together. 

"Fuck!" he suddenly shouted from the kitchen. 

"What's wrong?" you asked, lifting your head up from the cushion. When Bradley walked into the living room, his brow was pinched and he was eyeing you warily. "What?" you demanded, struggling to sit up.

He knelt in front of you and eased you into a seated position. "Sugar," he whispered, pleading with you. "I just got the call. A special mission."

Tears sprang to your eyes. "A deployment?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll be back before the due date."

You cried while his lips met your belly through your shirt. "But, Bradley," you sobbed, "I can't! You've been doing everything! I'm so exhausted, I can barely function! And what if they extend you? That did that last time!" 

Great big sobs wracked your body, and you started gasping for air. Soon you were close to hyperventilating, but Bradley got you into the bathroom just in time for you to throw up in the toilet. And then you curled up on the floor and looked up at him. Your voice was a harsh whisper as he rubbed your back. "I can't do this without you."

He looked distraught as he said, "I don't want you to have to. But Uncle Sam owns my ass."

You closed your eyes, dreading asking him for the mission details. So instead you whispered, "No, the beans and I own your ass. Uncle Sam just borrows you."

"You absolutely own my ass, Sugar," he replied softly, kissing your tear streaked cheeks and helping you get to your feet. "Let's try to eat dinner, and we can talk this through."

Bradley carried two plates of food to the dining room table where you had the perfect view of the glossy white doors he had used to propose to you. He had hung them up on the wall, turning them into the most beautiful work of former frat boy art you had ever seen. 

SUGAR 

WILL 

YOU 

MARRY 

ME?

You picked at your food as he filled you in on the missions plans. He was perfect. Your husband was perfect, and now you were scared you weren't going to be able to get through a month without him. And then you started to spiral, because if four weeks alone while you were pregnant felt too daunting, how would you manage twins while he was gone for months at a time?

"Beer Boy?" you whimpered. "I can't do this."

"Yes," he said adamantly, "you can. You're the strongest person I know."

You bit down hard on your lip as it quivered. "What if something happens to you? Or me? Or them?" Your voice broke, and once again, Bradley was collecting you into his arms and abandoning the dinner plates. You cried softly as he helped you out of your work clothes and into his old Grateful Dead shirt. And then you curled up in bed and watched him strip down to his underwear. 

You watched the flex of his muscles as he took the hideous, tie dyed Grateful Dad shirt out of his drawer and pulled it on. "Nothing's going to happen," he whispered as he got in bed beside you. "You'll wear your shirt, and I'll wear mine. And we'll think about each other the whole time I'm gone. And I'll hang up all the sexy photos I have of you plus the ultrasounds of the beans. And before you know it, I'll be back. And then the beans will be here. And then we'll actually be even more perfect than I ever thought possible."

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms, soaking up all of his beautiful words. 

---------------------------

Bradley's duffle bag was packed. He was leaving in the morning. You'd made him a little folder of copies of the ultrasound photos, and he'd added a few wedding photos as well. He laughed every time he looked at the photos from your Vegas wedding with Elvis. But right now, he felt like crying.

Somehow you were holding it together better than he was right now. "You coming to bed, Beer Boy?"

He zipped his bag closed and looked up to find you standing there in your navy blue bra and matching panties. Your tits looked bigger than ever, practically spilling over the lace cups. And your belly had gotten so big, your panties were tucked below your bump. He reached out for you, pulling you close so his nose met your belly.

"I want the two of you to be good for Mommy while I'm gone, okay?" he whispered, kissing and tickling you with his mustache. He was rewarded with your fingers in his hair and a kick from one of his twins. "I love my Sugar Babies."

You giggled and said, "I wonder if that was the jellybean or the spoonful of sugar that kicked you." Over the past few weeks, you had taken to giving the twins cute little candy related names, and Bradley couldn't get enough. 

He'd never get enough of you either. The way your fingers felt in his hair as he knelt in front of you. The sound of your voice when he closed his eyes. The warmth of your skin where he kissed you. 

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered before he stood and followed you to bed. 

"I'll be there to pick you up four weeks from tomorrow," you promised, reaching back to unhook your bra. "I promise."

Bradley groaned loudly as you sank back into the pillows. "Your tits look delicious," he moaned, crawling across the bed to get to you. "Fucking huge."

"Watch your language in front of the babies," you whispered against his lips as he palmed your breasts and stroked your tattoos. "Daddy."

Bradley pulled your underwear down your legs and tossed them aside, running his fingers through your slick. "Bradley!" you gasped, your eyes following his every move as he brought his fingers up to his lips. 

"You look delicious, and you taste delicious," he told you, licking his fingers clean before you reached for his cock through his boxer shorts. You squeezed him, eliciting a strangled, needy noise, and he whined your name. 

And you let Bradley do whatever he wanted with a devilish little smile on your face and his name on your lips. You sucked his cock until he was panting, and then you leaned back with your hands on your chest. When he ran his wet length through the valley between your breasts, you urged him along.

"I want you to," you whispered as he titty fucked you. Your tongue darted out to taste him as he tried to go slow. But you looked and felt so good, he was already so far gone by the time he pulled away from you.

"I wanna make you feel good," he gasped as you pushed him onto his back. "As fucking good as you make me feel all the time."

He was treated to the sight of you awkwardly positioning him at your entrance as you had to work around your belly. And when you slid down around him with your perfect pussy, Bradley let his hands come to rest on your hips. Your body was wider now and impossibly sexy, and you rode him as you ran your fingers gently along your breasts. 

"I love you, Sugar," he whispered, running his knuckles along your clit until you were clenching. His other hand came to rest on your belly, and Bradley felt so connected to you, so in love with you, that he felt a tear leak from his eye as you came from him. And then he came inside you as he met you halfway for a kiss.

As you eventually started to doze off on his shoulder, still full of his cum, you whispered, "I love you too, Beer Boy."

----------------------------

Being away from the three of you was tedious at best. Bradley found it hard to pay attention to the things he was supposed to do. He knew the mission parameters inside and out, but he didn't take the time to think about how dangerous it was. There was no space left in his jumbled thoughts for anything except you.

Phoenix had promised to go to your appointments with you in his absence, and when he was allowed to call you, he listened intently to your updates 

"Jellybean boy is measuring a little bigger than our sweet girl, but they both looked good! Nice and strong according to the doctor. And I gained three more pounds, which is probably not ideal, but all the meals you made and froze for me are so yummy." 

And then he flew the special mission, set on making sure it went as flawlessly as possible. Determined to stay as safe as he could. Whatever it took to get back home to San Diego and his perfect little family. 

You were less than a month out from your due date now. And when Bradley arrived on the dock exactly four weeks after you'd sent him off with some filthy kisses, he was so excited to see you. See if you'd gotten bigger or had trouble walking now. He was excited to kneel down and talk to his twins. 

But when he turned his phone on, he was greeted with a voicemail message of your incoherent sobbing. He dropped his bag to the deck of the aircraft carrier as the sound of you crying met his ears. His heart sank to his stomach. You'd left him this message just a handful of hours ago, but when he tried to call you back as the ship was docking, you didn't answer. 

"Come on," he whispered, his voice harsh and filled with unshed tears. "Sugar." But still, you did not answer.

He could feel himself gasping for air. He promised you nothing was going to happen. He never broke his promises to you. Not even when he was twenty one years old and didn't understand the strength of the love he felt for you.

He was staring at his phone screen for a few seconds as tears filled his eyes before he realized he was receiving a call.

"Nat?" he asked, answering his best friend.

"I'm on the dock," she said simply. "I'll find you as you deboard. We're going to head right to the hospital."

"What happened to her?" he asked, clutching his own stomach, barely able to speak. "To them?"

"Early labor," was all she said. Then she sighed before repeating herself. "We'll head right to the hospital."

------------------------------

You weren't sure what was going on. All you knew was the intense amount of pain you were in was enough to make you throw up over and over again. When your water broke during your calculus lecture, you shouldn't have been surprised. You'd been feeling off all week. You tried to chalk it up to missing your husband, but it was more than that. 

After your water broke, you collapsed, only breaking the fall with your hands on the hard floor. You were pretty sure at least one of your wrists was broken, but nobody at the hospital was even slightly concerned about that. Not when they were trying to determine if your babies were okay. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to beg Natasha to leave you and pick Bradley up from the port on base after she met you at the hospital. You had been informed that the babies were fine, but you needed to deliver them now as you were running out of amniotic fluid. They would deliver the beans by cesarean section. They were going to put you under general anesthesia for it.

You cried as they prepared you for surgery. You were alone. Bradley was probably with Phoenix by now, but they wouldn't wait any longer. "Let's get started," your obstetrician said as you settled on your back with your battered wrists as your sides. 

"Okay," you agreed, crying as the drugs to put you under started to cloud your vision. 

"Sugar!" 

You laughed softly at the nurse to your left. "That sounded like my husband," you said with a giggle. Then you caught sight of Bradley running into the room in his khaki uniform, drenched in sweat. "It looks like him, too. Hi, Beer Boy," you said, still laughing as he rushed toward you.

"Sugar," he gasped, eyes wide. But they wouldn't let him touch you as you fell asleep.

Pain. You woke up in so much pain. Everything hurt. You were on your back and the room was dark and you could hear beeping. 

"Bradley?" you gasped, trying to sit up, but you couldn't. You started crying and calling his name, and then he was at your side.

"I'm here, Sugar," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay. I love you. You're just waking up again."

"Again?" you asked, completely confused. "Where are the beans?"

"In the nursery," he promised. "They've been in the nursery since yesterday when they were born." 

Your head was swimming with information and memories and fear as Bradley left you to turn on the dim hospital room lights. "They were born yesterday?" 

"Yes," he told you, making his way back over in his rumpled, wrinkly uniform. "And you had surgery on your left wrist today."

But you were starting to remember more now as your eyes settled on the white board across the room. The birth times and birth weights of the twins written in an unfamiliar scrawl. Baby A and Baby B were born just five minutes apart. You must have been on a lot of pain medication, because surely those were not the names you and Bradley had discussed?

You cleared your throat a few times, and then he was grabbing your cup of water and holding it so you could take a sip through the straw.

"Bradley," you started, but he stopped you with a kiss to your chapped lips.

"I'm so proud of you, Sugar," he said, letting his forehead come to rest against yours. "Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are?" 

"But Beer Boy," you said, glancing at the names written on the board.

"The doctors said the kiddos are doing just fine, and when they wake up hungry in another hour or so, you'll be able to see them."

"But I-"

"And only your left wrist was broken. Your right one will heal on its own. And your abdominal incision will heal up great. And you'll be back to work after the fall term, no problem."

"Bradley!" you said loudly, realizing it was nearly three in the morning as you checked the clock before looking at the names again. "Did you go rogue and name the children without my approval?"

Your husband was silent now, and you could see his cheeks were a little red. "Just the middle names," he muttered softly. 

You sighed and read out loud from the board. "Emma Bean Bradshaw and Levi Garcia Bradshaw," you said slowly. "Really?"

He looked so sheepish as your gaze met his again. "I thought they sounded nice," he whispered, and you felt your lips curve into a smile.

"I love them," you said, swallowing hard. "Their names are perfect."

And then you were treated to your husband's lips and mustache as he kissed you all over your face until you were laughing. "I thought you were mad," he said with a sigh of relief.

"Not mad," you promised, letting him adjust your bed and get you more water. He flitted around the room for a few minutes, and then the door opened as two nurses pushed bassinets into the room, and you cried as you looked at your daughter and your son in their matching tie dyed onesies

Bradley picked Emma Bean up in his arms, and he gently held her out so you could give her a kiss. "Here she is. And check it out, Sugar. I've been feeding them and changing them since yesterday!" 

You marveled at how he held her and bent to coo at Levi Garcia at the same time. And then a moment later, he was sitting in the chair right next to you, feeding each baby a bottle as he sang his favorite Grateful Dead song. 

"Beer Boy," you said with a soft laugh. "You really are the Grateful Dad." 

He smiled at you and said, "I haven't been home yet to wash my hideous shirt, but one day soon we can all wear our tie dye together." 

You examined the cast on your left wrist and ran you right hand gingerly along your belly which felt horribly tender. "You're going to have to take care of all three of us when we go home."

"I'm up for the challenge," he promised immediately. "Nat's gonna help. And Bob will, too. And we'll be just fine. Better than fine."

Bradley stood carefully and set down Emma Bean, your tiny daughter, along your right side. Bradley didn't move as she snuggled up against you, rather he bent and let you kiss Levi's cheek. 

"We'll be perfect," you supplied, smiling at your son and daughter as you listened to your husband sing. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you."

-----------------------------

I couldn't leave Beer Boy hanging in his ugly Grateful Dad tee without letting him know how was having twins beans. And I just know he's going to take the best care of all three of them. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[dadsbongos]

on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse 

[darkbluekies]

Can I request a one shot with a reader that managed to pick the lock and escape the hospital? (Dr.Kry)

Escaping a madman

Doctor!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you pick the lock and escape doctor Kry. You don't know that he knows exactly where you live and decides to go get you back.

Warnings: yandere, drugs, obsession, mentions of killing, threats, non consensual kiss, kidnapping

Word count 1.9k

"All tucked in nicely?" he smiles, feeling the duvets with his hands.

You nod.

"Okay, good", the doctor continues. "Alright then, sleep well, Y/N, I will be back in an hour or so to check up on you. If there’s anything you need, just press the button on your bed and I'll be here in a heartbeat."

Doctor Kry thinks it's just one of your normal afternoon naps. If only he knew what you have planned. The very second the door closes behind him, you can hear the lock turning. You sprint up from your bed and over to the desk. You open drawer after drawer with your weak hands, already feeling how your head is spinning with all this movement and fear. Dr Kry could come back any minute if he suspects something and then he'll catch you red handed. Maybe that's why he started locking your door?

You can't take more of him. He's like a parasite that feeds off of you and he doesn't seem like he can get enough. You need to get away before he sews himself together with you.

Gosh, how you miss your family. Dr Kry barely tells you what day it is, so you don't know how long you've been separated. All you know is that it's too long.

You rummage through the small drawers until you find a paperclip. If you bend it enough, maybe you can use it as a lockpick?

You don't wait to find out. Quickly, you run to the door and insert the little metal stick into the keyhole. You poke around, trying to find the right trigger. Something has to be pressed to unlock the door.

You sit there for a good ten minutes before the lock gives in and clicks open. With a small, relieved smile, you open the door. You sneak out into the corridor, carefully looking around. You've barely left your room since you've come here. The only times you've been let out has been by Dr Kry’s side (and the few times you managed to run down to the cafeteria). The cafeteria is close to the entrance, right where you have to be. You know the way down to the cafeteria wonderfully.

You decide to take the elevator. Less people will see you that way. You only need once glance in the elevator mirror to grow cold. If you've ever seen a walking zombie, that'd be it. This hospital has turned you into a living dead.

As soon as the box you're in stops moving and the doors open, you brace yourself. Be quick, unnoticeable and brave. Don't stop if anyone asks you something … and if Doctor Kry sees you … run for dear life. He has to be the reason why you're looking and feeling like you do. Thankfully, no one seems tk bat an eye. Everyone is so busy with their own things that no one seems to see the person walking out the entrance in a hospital gown. Your heart is beating in your throat. Bare feet touch the asphalt and you gulp. You're free! You're outside! The fresh breeze caresses your body, welcoming you out, congratulating you for finally escaping.

Tears run down your cheeks as you run over to the payphone in the middle of the parking lot. You have to call your parents and have them pick you up before Dr Kry realizes that you're gone. Only problem? You don't have any coins. Desperately, you look around and find that someone must have dropped there on the ground. You pick up the two shiny coins and push them into the slot. Fingers shaking as you press the number buttons. A few signals pass by before it breaks off.

"Hello?" a familiar voice says.

"Mom!" you breathe out, near tears again.

"Y/N?! H-How are you feeling, you haven't let us see you-"

"No, it wasn't me, I promise. I-Ill tell you everything, just please come pick me up! Hurry!"

"I'll be there soon."

And so she hung up. You sink down on the asphalt and start to bawl. Feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement. Hearing your mothers voice again, being outside, about to be picked up, being noticed by doctor Kry … it'll end your poor heart.

Fifteen minutes feel like two years. Your mom's car finally slides into the parking lot with a screech and is close to hitting another car. It stops right in front of you. Your mother jumps out without bothering to close the door behind her. She throws herself over you and you cling onto the woman as if this is the last time you'll ever see her. The familiar smell is hypnotizing, it makes you think of a better time, a time that feels so long ago. It's summer now and when you went into the hospital the snow was falling heavily from the gray sky. Either it's been a year and a half or six months. It feels more like the first alternative, but your mom hasn't changed at all, so you believe it's only been a couple of months.

She brings you into the car while asking a million different questions. You answer them all, but your body starts to lose the adrenaline. You slump back into the seat. Normally, you would be sleeping at this time and your body has adapted to your different nap times.

As soon as you come back to your childhood home, an immense feeling of exhaustion washes over you. You're home, you're finally safe.

You want to tell your family everything that has happened, but you think that you're going to faint if you don't get to sleep in your own bed again. They help you up to the second floor and place you gently into the bed. Everything around you is as you remember it. It smells like it usually smells, it looks like it usually looks and it feels like it usually does. You're home.

A weird noise wakes you up. Something sounding like a door creaking open. You open your eyes, but to your surprise, you can't see anything! You must have slept longer than planned. The moon is up outside your window.

You look around, noticing a figure in the darkness. As you're about to gasp, a hand slaps over your mouth. Only by the scent, you're able to identify the person.

"Shh, my little one", Dr Kry whispers and holds his other finger over his lips. "If you make any noise I'll kill them."

You don't have to ask who he means. Terrified, you shake your head as quickly as you can. He sighs, looking down into your pleading eyes.

"Why did you have to run away, hm?" he says sadly. "It was supposed to be the two of us. Don't you understand how scared I got when I walked into your room and saw that you weren't there? I looked at the security footage and you and so sheepishly walked out! I knew that you'd go here. You missed your family so much, didn't you, little one?"

Tears start to run down your cheeks, flooding down on his hand.

"Don't cry", Dr Kry whispers and bends down to lean his forehead on yours. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'll remove my hand, okay? Remember that if you make any noise, I'll kill your parents. You don't want that, do you?"

You shake your head just as quickly again.

"Good", he whispers and removes his hand.

Your bottom lip trembles tremendously and you're about to let out a sob, but you bite your lip to prevent it.

"You're so pretty", Dr Kry whispers.

You shake your head. You saw your reflection in the mirror. Whatever he's done to you, it's anything but pretty.

"Yes, you are", he whispers and cups your cheeks softly.

His cold hands make you shiver. You pray that this is a nightmare. A side effect from the lack of drugs he's given you. But his touch, his breath, it's all too real.

Suddenly, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. You gasp and stare at him, too shocked to push him off.

Dr Kry pulls back and picks up something from his pocket. You notice how he's not wearing his doctor clothes. He's wearing a sand colored jean jacket and a pair of jeans. You can't tell what he picks up from his pocket, but it looks like a cloth.

"Take a big breath", he urges and presses it to your face, covering both mouth and nose. "Come on, sweetheart. Can’t you do that for me?"

You start to turn your head back and forth, but you can't escape his claws. The cloth follows your every move. You hold your breath and glare at him. He seems to be as calm as ever. He knows that you’ll have to breathe sooner or later. You can’t win. When you can't hold your breath anymore you're forced to breathe it in whether you like it or not. A dizzy sensation enters your brain, numbing it.

"There we go", he cooes. "What a good little thing you are, darling. Big breaths, good job. Don't be scared, when you wake up, you'll be where you belong again and we can pretend that this never happened."

The last thing you see is Doctor Kry’s blue eyes staring right into yours.

When you wake up, the sun is shining in your eyes. The groggy feeling in your head is making everything harder. You can’t seem to move or think. With half open eyes, you look around, finding that you’re back in the hospital. You lift your hands to rub your eyes, but your right hand stops. You look down. He’s handcuffed it to the side of the bed! In panic, you start to move your hand, hoping to get out of it.

The bathroom door opens and Dr Kry comes out, fixing his white lab coat. You freeze and stare at him with wide eyes. He smiles slightly.

“Oh, darling, don’t look so scared”, he says and nods at your cuffed wrist. “I had to do that to make sure you don’t go rummaging through my drawers again. If you can pick the door lock with a paperclip, I don’t want to know what more you can do.”

“L-Let me go!” you shout.

“No, I won’t.” He sits down on the side of the bed, right by your knees. “You need me as much as I need you … it’s just a matter of time before you realize that. You’re sick, Y/N, you can’t be out in the large world. Don’t you see that I’m protecting you? You need me to protect you. You can’t survive without me.”

“I hate you. You’re such a piece of shit!”

“You’re just frightened. I know you don’t hate me. You like me when I’m nice and I’ll be just as nice as you want me to be, but then you need to be a good little patient and not run around when you’re not supposed to. Promise me that you’ll never try to run away again. I didn’t touch your parents this time, but if you ever try again, I’ll burn down their house. Remember, Y/N, I’m good at making murders look like accidents.”

“No …”

“Yes. Promise me now. Promise that you’ll stay here for the rest of your little life and that you’ll never try to leave me again. Promise me.”

“I can’t …”

“I know where you live, I know where all of your friends live-”

“I promise! I promise to n-never leave you again. Please, just let everyone be. I’ll do whatever you want if you just let everyone else be!”

Dr Kry smiles cockily and kisses your forehead. You shiver and close your eyes. Can you ever escape this madman?

[adoreeenina]

I wanna be yours - Ch. 4

Relationships: Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet

WC: 3.1k

Series Summary: ~~~ 𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝕋𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕁𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪.

“The hell is this?” You scowl at the cloths that’s neatly folded on the table in your cell. First was being shot, second being held captive and now this? They couldn’t at least give you a day or two to heal.

“Cloths” Quaritch deadpan with his arms cross as he eyes you. You’re still in that hospital gown, and instead of giving you your cloths back, they decide to give you theirs.

“This” you pinch what looks like a shirt that Quaritch is wearing, you hold it up as you eye it suspiciously , “this is not cloths, these are blankets” they obviously look to big on you.

the man in front of you is more muscular and taller than any other man you’ve seen from your clan, instead of your father of course. The cloths will drag you down.

“To bad darlin’, you have to wear them”

You bare your teeth, ears pinning to the side of your head, but lets your grief go with a sigh.

“Why do I have to wear this?” you reluctantly grab what looks like sweatpants from the table and hold out in front of you. You hate this so much.

“I don’t need my men getting distracted” Quaritch simply shrugs as he shamelessly stare at you.

“Then tell your men to stop perving” Quaritch doesn’t bother to answer with a reply.

you grab the shirt and hold it against your body, seeing it reach to your mid thigh, you curse yourself for being short, the runt of the litter, even Neteyam is taller than you and your older than him.

You grab the shirt from the middle, using your sharp fang, your rip it the shirt on half, you notice Quaritch ear twitch, obviously agitated seeing you rip RDA property, and you take it as a small win. You hold the shirt once again, against your body seeing it reach just above your navel.

You grab the sweatpants and do the same thing, the legs obviously puddles the floor, using your teeth, you rip the material. You hold the pants againt your legs seeing they reach just below your knees, humming In approval, you turn to see Quaritch still in the room, quietly watching you.

“You gonna watch me get dressed too, Peeping Tom?”

“You got a mouth on you. You talk to your father like that?” Quaritch quirk an eyebrow.

“As a matter of fact Colonel… I do” you smirk.

“Fucking brat” Quaritch mutters amusingly before pressing a button on the side, letting the door open, he ducks down, leaving you alone to change.

“Asshole” you hiss as aggressively put the cloths on. Mentally cursing, seeing how the shirt is showing a lot, showing a bit of your side boob and a bit of your ribs.

Your head snap towards the door, hearing it hiss, seeing the bald Avatar that you now know as Lyle, ducking down to enter.

“C’mon buttercup, turn around” holding his hand up and making a twirling motion. You got the hint and turn your back towards him, letting out the yellow cuffs on your wrist.

Lyle has a hold on you as you walk briskly towards a familiar ship, the same one you seen back at the train tracks.

“Hey! Keep your hands to yourself!” You snarl at Lyle, feeling his hand a little too low on your backside.

“Sorry buttercup” Lyle smirks down at you, still hasn’t bothered to move his hand at all.

“I ain’t your buttercup, you perv” you hiss, Lyle rolls his eyes as he pushes you forward. You look around, zeroing on Spider who is being held by Quaritch.

“Get on the ship. Find a seat, and keep out of the way” Quaritch shouted over the roar of the engines, shoving Spider towards the ship. Quaritch turns around as he claps his hands to hurry everyone else.

“Let’s go! Chop-chop”

Feeling Lyle’s hold tighten on your arm, you were quickly urged forward, jogging over to the samson together after Spider. Lyle helps you, as you have no choice with your hands still bound behind your back. He guides you to sit down as he stands in front you, twirling his finger again, he gets behind you and unlocking the cuffs.

“Sweet” hearing Spider, you turn seeing him playing around with the mounted gun as he aims it playfully.

“Spider!” You scold at him.

“Whoa, hold on there, hotshot” you watch as Quaritch rushes, grabbing Spider by the arm to push him away from the gun and force him to sit down.

“You listen up” Quaritch brings a hand up to poke the dome of Spider’s exopack, “there’s a tracker built in that mask”

“When we hit the ground,” He starts, moving his stern gaze to you before continuing,” and you take off,” he almost smirks before looking at Spider again, his big hand dwarfing Spider’s bicep. “I’ll have you back in two minutes and I’ll give you an old-school ass whippin’” you try your best to prevent a laugh coming out, instead you just manage to smirk

“understood?” Spider rolls his eyes as he tries to yank his arm out of his his grip. Now he knows how you feel when Jake scolds you. “Understood?!”

“Yes sir” Spider responds sarcastically, making you snort as you hide your face.

“And you-“ Quaritch turns to look at you as Lyle instructs you to hold your wrist out, putting on a tracker around your wrist.

“I wouldn’t threaten me with a good time” you glance over at Spider and watched him hide his face, of course your stubborn ass would say some dumb shit like that. Quaritch shakes his head as Lyle fights back a smirk.

“See that bracelet around your wrist.” He points, you glance down at the black bracelet “That’s a tracker. You take off and we’ll find you just the same, I know damn well you won’t leave Spider behind” you turn to glare at Quaritch, you know he’s right, you rather die than leave Spider behind with these sky demons.

“We up?” Quaritch looks at Lyle, he nods as he hoist himself up and sits next to you.

“Hey asshole, ever heard of personal space” you irk making Lyle chuckle. You don’t understand what’s so funny, making you more pissed off.

“Someone should teach you some manners”

“Like you?” Lyle glance down at you with a smug smile. You feel someone lightly shove you, you turn to see Spider with an exasperated look.

You sigh as you turn to look forward, facing Quaritch as he slaps his hand against the window, giving the sky demon behind it a thumbs up , before squatting down before you. His long arm is holding onto the side as the metal flying machine lifts from the ground.

Soon after leaving Bridgehead, you hear Rawm calling for you, his big wings flapping in the distance as he follows. Seeing Z-dog behind the mount gun twitch before aiming it at Rawm. 

“Don’t” you shout at her as she turns to look at you, “A tamed Ikran will not attack unless provoked. Rawm will not hurt you” you pray to the Great Mother that she’ll listen, if she doesn’t, you’ll show them just how far a bond between an Ikran and a Na’vi goes.

“Colonel” Z-dog calls not taking her eyes off Rawm. Waving her off, he doesn’t take his eyes off Rawm, spreading his wings wider to keep up the speed of the Samson. his dark blue frame imposing on the bright skies, his black and red stripes glittering as his wings take him forward.

“So how do I get one of these Banshee, darlin’”Quaritch finally turns away from Rawm to face you.

“Ikran” you repeat in Na’vi.

“Ikans” he poorly repeats, making you sigh before slowly pronouncing the word to him.

“Ikran”

“Ik-ran” he slowly pronounce it, it was a bit choppy, but you take it as a win.

“You going to show us how get one of these banshees, sweetheart?” Lyle ask from beside you, your face scrunch up at the English word for Ikran.

“Ikran. To become Ikran Makto is to pass your iknimaya” you tell them. You watch as they both look clueless making you sigh before turning to look at Spider, asking for help on how to explain what Iknimaya was.

“It’s a rite of passage for Na’vi warriors” Spider offers before turning to look at you with a goofy smile, you smile back in return before turning to look at Quaritch and Lyle who both seem to be deep in thought

“To become a warrior, you have tests you must pass. To choose an Ikran, you walk among them until you find the one. If it is the right one, it will try to kill you,” you instantly see how Quaritch face light up and Lyle’s shake his head with a snort.

“What’s wrong? You scared, handsome?” You couldn’t help but tease with a smirk. Before Lyle could respond with a comeback, you feel Spider shove you once again, making you turn to him with a scowl.

“Can you quit it with the flirting” Spider scolds you in Na’vi.

“I’m not flirting” you say with a forced smile, “I’m just being extra friendly to someone who is extra attractive” you respond, making Spider roll his eyes.

“Gross”

As the Samson dropped them off, Spider and you jump on a fallen tree, you crouch down as you tug on the shirt, feeling uncomfortable. Quaritch talks to the Recoms as they all stand in a circles.

“All right, listen up. Jake Sully’s gone to ground. Don’t matter. Wherever he is, we’ll find him, and his batshit crazy wife, too” The Recoms laughs lightly, you tried but failed to fight back a snort. No one can’t deny how accurate that statement is. Spider bumps his shoulder against yours, as he gives you a ‘what the fuck?’ Look. He probably expected you to defend Neytiri.

“Where’s the lie? We both know where I got my craziness from”

“To do so, we go Na’vi. Full tilt, all the way. That means we eat Na’vi. We ride Na’vi. Think Na’vi”

“Fuck Na’vi” you mumble, thinking no one hears you, but Spider did by shoving you, making you laugh.

“And that starts with speaking the language” you and Spider laugh at Quaritch poor attempts of speaking the language. The whole squad turn to look at the both of you.

“You call that speaking the language? You sound like a three year old!” You shove him as he speaks down at the recombinants. Now is not the time to be a smartass.

“All right, smart guy. You just went from being our monkey mascot to official interpreter” from behind Quaritch you see Lyle chuckling.

“Whatever” Spider rolls his eyes.

“You just had to open your big mouth” you scold

“Oh like you wouldn’t?”He gave you a dirty look and you beam at him

“We both know I would, but I know when not to be a smartass, Skxáwng” you lightly hit the side of his head, making him laugh.

“Alright, alright” Quaritch cuts your fun, making you and Spider to look at him with dirty looks, which he ignores.

“So that’s your plan? To learn to love as Na’vi” Quaritch nods, making you smirk.

“Well then this should be fun” you clap your hands together as you stood up to your full height.

“Well Colonel, hope you ready cause I’ma teach you the same way my mother taught my father” you smirk, Spider stands next to you with his arms crossed with a huge grin.

“Yeah? What way is that?” Lyle’s amusement was poorly hidden.

“It’s either learn fast or die. My father learned everything in 3 months, can you top that?” You challenge. You notice the challenging look on Quaritch face. Yeah this would be easy.

“This Ikni-maya” Lyle steps forward with curiosity clearly visible behind his sunglasses “what prepares us for it?”

“When you train to become a taronyu and tsamsiyu, you must know the language, make a clean kill, tame an ikran, and go through your uniltaron. That’s how you become Na’vi”

“Uniltaron?” Lyle says it in perfect Na’vi, which surprises you.

“Dream Hunt. Now first thing first” you point at their boots, “boots off”

“That’s not happening darlin” Quaritch cross his arms, the others snort, thinking you’re joking.

“You need to feel your ground, you won’t be able to if you leave the boots on” you hop of the log and walk towards Lyle who stands behind Quaritch, swatting at his own tail to move it out of the way.

You slap his hand, Lyle looks at you flabbergasted, almost like he’s surprised you would even slap him.

“Stop fighting your damn tail, use it as a counterbalance, that’s what it for when you’re on the trees” you sigh. It was easier to teach your younger siblings. You turn to walk towards Spider who was still standing on the log.

“All of you need to realize that you aren’t human anymore. Take time to get accustomed to your new bodies and the differences. It’ll make your lives easier, trust me. It’ll be like a walk in park” you shrug as you hop over the log, landing swiftly on the other side, Spider hops down to follow you, leaving Ronan and the barbarians behind to follow.

Quaritch decided to set up camp for the night. You, Spider and Quaritch had a heated argument about where to sleep, you wanted to sleep on the trees where is safer from predators and of course Quaritch being a stubborn prick, wanted to sleep on the ground in tents.

You sadly lost that battle, you were so close to clawing out his eyes if it wasn’t for Spider holding you back.

“Your old man teach you how to fight like that? You knocked the wind out of Mansk” Quaritch crane his neck towards Mansk who is a few feet away, setting up his tent with Z-dog.

Mansk looks over at Quaritch from the mentioned of his name before looking away to go back to fixing his tent. You glance at Mansk seeing him with a bruise around his temple and his left cheek.

“Not entirely” you mumble as you fumble with the tent, getting agitated you throw the sticks to the ground with a huff.

“Here. Let me help you” hearing Lyle voice, he gently pushes you to the side as he kneels down to works on your tent, Spider joins him, to teach him so the next time they set up camp somewhere else, he could do it.

“Well that wasn’t some Na’vi moves, I can tell you that” Quaritch stands next to you as the both of you watch Lyle and Spider set up the tent. This almost feel too normal. And you don’t like it.

With Quaritch standing next to you for the first time, you notice the height difference. You barely rich his chest, it’s almost embarrassing to you, not only was he taller than you, he bulky.

“Yeah” Lyle laughs, hearing your conversation, not taking his attention away from the tent, “they look like moves from Black Widow”

“They are” Spider admits as he slides the rod into the proper hole.

“What?” Both Quaritch and Lyle turn to look at Spider before looking at you.

“I spend a lot of time with Spider. Some of the humans shows him old movies and shows to keep him occupied, he favors the Avengers” you shrug, not entirely understanding the shock looks on their faces.

“That still doesn’t explain on how you know how to fight like that” Lyle pipes in.

“If you can’t already guess, I’m short” you point at your figure, “I’m a runt, even my younger brother is taller than me” you huff as you frown.

“My dad used to tell me my height is my advantage. I didn’t understand him till I saw Black Widow. She doesn’t let her height stop her from taking down men more than half her size. So I copied her moves, I practiced a lot with my brothers and sometimes even with the other warriors from the clan to perfect them. I even-“

“I DID IT!” Spider celebrates as he throws his fist up. You couldn’t help but smile seeing him get excited over completing the tent with the help of Lyle.

“Hey Kobato Hasegawa” you hear someone shout, seeing Lopez toss something at you, you barely manage to catch it. You hold it up as you appraisingly stare at it.

“What the hell is this?”

“An MRE. It’s food” Quaritch deadpan as rolls his eyes, as he snatch the bag from your hands, opening it and hands it back to you.

You look inside, you sniff almost gagging, pulling the bag away from you.

“This not food. This looks like dog food” you scowl, you hand it to Spider who looks inside and gladly eats whatever it is.

“How do you know what dog food looks like?” Lyle ask.

“I watch human movies” you say simply.

“Na’vi needs real food. Human food won’t fill you up. We need the proper nutrients” you explain. You yawn as you rub your eye with heel of your palm.

“We must rest, tomorrow I will teach you” you walk towards your tent, with Spider following close behind you.

“Hey, wait a second” Lyle calls for you, you lazily turn your head to look at Lyle who is walking towards with a couple of folded blankets.

“Here. For you and the kid” you reach your arms out, letting Lyle place them in your arms.

“Thank you” you mumble, flicking your eyes to look up at Lyle who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Your breath hitch at the way he looks at you, no one has ever looked at you like that, not even Tarsem, your suppose mate.

You know that moment when you look at somebody’s eyes and you can feel them staring into your soul and the whole world goes quiet just for a second? Yeah that’s how it feels.

“Ahem” hearing Quaritch, you instantly look away, feeling blood rush to your cheeks.

“Goodnight” you mumble before rushing into the tent. You close the tent behind you, seeing Spider fast asleep in the corner. You couldn’t help but smile at Spider’s sleeping form, it gets chilly at night in Pandora. You grab a blanket and cover Spider. A quiet laugh escapes you, watching Spider snuggle himself into a burrito.

You grab a blanket for yourself as you lay down on the ground and get your self comfortable. Letting your mind ponder.

What the hell were you thinking? You can’t be fooling around with a sky demon. You’re doing this to protect Spider

Taglist: @alexandra-001

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[velvetm00light]

Loved

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Four of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You've awoken in the hospital after experiencing hellish torture at the hands of your foster brother turned stalker. Your coworker, Spencer, worked tirelessly to save you. He's stayed beside your hospital bed since he found you. He decides to take off some time from work to help you get back on your feet and work through the trauma with you, and give you his undivided attention.

Warnings: Hospital, trauma, grief, one bed. Previous and future parts mention guns, torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: My heart is so warm at all the comments, reblogs, and messages! I'm so happy you all are loving this series. It really makes me want to keep writing! I will probably start posting small one shots while also writing this series just to take a break when I'm not sure what to do in the next chapter. I plan on (hopefully) making this a long series since it's so loved already so the stress isn't over yet. ;) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me. ♡

THE LIGHTS WERE BLINDING as your eyes fluttered open. Machines beep annoyingly all around you. As you adjust to your surroundings, the memories of the past few days come crashing into you, threatening to drown you. Your entire mind, body, and soul feels drained and worn.

Your eyes slowly gaze around the room, starting with your bruised and patched up body, luckily mostly covered by the hospital gown you've been dressed in. You shift your gaze to the baskets, cards, and balloons lined around your room, presumably from your team. A smile tugs at your lips as you can see their love in object form. Your eyes reach the other side of the room and you spot a sleeping body curled up in a love seat to the right of your bed.

As if he can sense you've awoken, his eyes snap open and are instantly on you, inspecting every inch of your body, then your face. You can see him release a heavy sigh of relief. You admit, he looks like hell but you know you look the exact same.

He gives you a small smile as he scoots his chair closer to the side of your bed and takes your hand in his. You try to return the smile, but it falls flat on your tired face.

"How long have you been here?" You manage to croak out. Your throat feels raw from the pleading and yelling you'd done the past few days.

"The whole time," he replies. You're not sure why it shocks you, but it feels almost too good to be true. None of your team is to be seen, but by the looks of your room, you would bet every single one of them have already come to check on you and you're sure Spencer's phone isn't lacking in text messages and phone calls. You begin to wonder if he asked to stay while the rest of the team carried on their due diligence to the world and are chasing after bad guys while you lay helplessly in the hospital.

"Thank you," is all you can say and you still feel like it's just not enough. Nothing will probably thank him enough for his care and the efforts and energy he expended to save your life. You're sure this is probably the first time he's slept in days.

"I'd do anything for you, (y/n)," he said it so matter-of-factly it took you by surprise. Your heart swells hearing him say these sweet things to you, the kind of things you allowed yourself to fantasize about. "You don't have to talk about it."

"Is he dead?" You whisper, unsure of which response you're hoping for.

"Yes."

By the look that overtakes his face, you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know he was most likely the one who did it. You're unsure if you really want to know if you're right or not. "Good."

"I'm sorry," Spencer murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear. Your eyes knit together, confusion evident on your face.

"Why? You saved me."

"You only got abducted because I'm the fool who told you it was safe to sleep."

"None of this is your fault, don't apologize to me."

His eyes widen in astonishment at your tone. "Don't get used to bossing me around," he smiles.

You heart dances at his comment and at the smile you guarantee hasn't been on his face in days. It's still not as wide and goofy as normal, but you'll take what you can get for now. As long as he's still able to put somewhat of a smile on his face, that's all that matters to you. It feels odd to put one on your own considering just hours ago you were chained to the ceiling of a barn and had a metal mask around your face like some kind of caged animal.

As if he senses your quick change in mood, his smile falls. "I really am sorry though, that you're going through this, and for what you went through." He squeezes the hand that he's refused to let go off since you awoke. You give him a small squeeze back as your reply.

His eyes fall to your body again, studying the different cuts and bruises peppering your skin. His gaze could set the entire world aflame as the rage threatens to consume him. He tears his eyes away from your wounds and looks away from you for a moment in an attempt to control the fire coursing through his blood. He knows he should be grateful that the guy who did this is already dead, but God, he just really wishes he could do it over and over again in more painful ways for good measure.

"I took a month of leave." He tells you, his gaze finally falling back on your face.

"What? Why?" You ask, a bit stunned that he would even take a day off let alone a whole month. You suppose you really underestimated how hard this could've been on him.

"Your injuries are..extensive, and that's being generous. I figured it might help to have someone who can do things for you." You notice the blush run up his neck and into his cheeks, as if he's nervous you'll tell him no.

"That's sweet of you, Spence, but you don't need to do that. I'll be okay." He looks at you with an expression on his face that basically says, liar, and you know he's right. Reality is, you'd love absolutely nothing more than getting his undivided attention, for him to cook you food, and take care of you for an entire month.

"Tough shit." A real smile spreads across your face this time. You're pretty sure this is the first time you've ever heard him curse and you almost ask him to do it again, but you realize that's probably inappropriate for the current situation you're in.

"I'm not even going to argue with you because I know I'm not going to win."

"Good girl," he smirks. Your skin turns hot as you push down the bubbling desire building inside you, you're in the hospital after all. But you can't help but start to realize that being in his presence makes you feel...normal. Like nothing ever happened and you're having a conversation on any normal day. It feels refreshing.

Keys jingle in Spencer's hand as he unlocks the door to his apartment. While in the hospital, you confided in him about the fact that you didn't think you could handle being in your apartment or even seeing the state of it right now. You'll have to see it eventually because as much as you would love to just stay with Spencer for a while, you couldn't bare to put that onto him, he's already allowing you to stay for a month, that should be long enough.

"Thank you for letting me stay, seriously. You didn't have to do all this for me."

"Did you think I was just going to let you suffer alone, in your own apartment where everything happened?" You know it's a rhetorical question, but he looks serious, and almost offended that you could possibly think such a thing of him. To be fair, you weren't aware of the feelings he had been keeping hidden from you.

"I mean, I guess I just didn't expect anything, you know? Yeah, I went through something traumatizing but so has everyone on this team. I'm not going to let it control me, well, I'm gonna try not to."

"There's nothing else I'd rather be doing. You're the most important thing to me. I plan on being here for you through it all."

You realize you're speechless, you've never had someone who put you as a top priority before. You've only been able to count on yourself to survive, it honestly feels strange to put your survival instincts in a cage and let someone else to the work. You're unable to stop yourself from getting tearful. He slowly reaches towards your face and wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You fight the urge to flinch, reminding yourself that the man in front of you is probably the last one on this entire Earth who would hurt you. "You're so strong, you know that?" He coos.

"I'm just glad that this is a burden I have to deal with, and not one of you," you state, and it's the truth. You wouldn't even begin to know how to comfort someone if the roles were reversed, and you wouldn't wish what you went through on any of your coworkers, or really anyone for that matter.

"You're not going to share this burden alone."

Before you can think of a response, Spencer leaves you to settle yourself in the living room while he grabs you some of his clothes to change into. You're currently in random garments of clothing, donated to you by your team. The clothing you had arrived to the hospital in were basically scissored to shreds, and you wouldn't be caught dead leaving the hospital in a hospital gown, what if your ass accidentally showed through the robe?

He swiftly comes back and you can't help but giggle when you examine the clothes he chose for you. "Spence, these clothes look good on you. I'm literally about to look like a little boy who probably lives in the basement of a library."

"Are you telling me I look like a little boy who lives in the basement of a library?" He asks as he attempts to keep a stern look on his face but you notice the smile tugging on the sides of his lips.

"What if I was?" You ask with a lift of the eyebrow.

Spencer's mouth opens, then closes quickly. You feel like he was most likely going to make some kind of flirtatious comment but probably thought better of it. While the sentiment is sweet, you begin to feel a bit annoyed. You're the last person to want people walking on eggshells around you in fear they're gonna set you off.

"Spence, can you promise me something?"

"Anything," he says quickly, sitting down next to you on the couch.

"Please don't walk on eggshells around me. Say exactly what you want to say, don't sugar coat or avoid saying certain things just because you're afraid to upset me. I'm a big girl."

"I-Okay. I just don't want to bring up any memories."

"I know, and that's extremely kind of you. I just know I would hate feeling like you can't be honest with me."

"Okay, I promise."

"Thank you."

He places a soft kiss on your temple, "Anything for you."

"Thank you for the clothes, just don't laugh at me."

You rise from your seat on the brown leather couch slightly right of the middle of his apartment's living room, and head into his room to your right. You gently shut the bedroom door and quickly change into the beige wool sweater and black shorts he gave you. You fight an internal battle with yourself, fighting against the urge to look around his room. To be fair, you'll have an entire month to learn probably everything about him, anyway.

You turn the cold brass knob of his bedroom door and crack it. "Remember, no laughing," you command, only sticking your head out.

"I won't, come on. We've got take out to eat and movies to watch."

You unhurriedly open the bedroom door further, revealing that you in fact do kind of look like you belong in the library. Spencer takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, his facial muscles giving away the fact that he actually wants to laugh.

"You look adorable," he giggles as you retake your seat next to him. You side eye him and begin to dig into your food. "Your choice of movie."

You think for a moment as you savior the extremely salty and very bad for you take out. "The Proposal."

"Is it just because you want to look at Ryan Reynolds?"

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I can't."

He follows through on your wish, and digs into his own meal as The Proposal starts to play. It was the first movie that came into your head, but it's makes the little girl in you feral at the fact that you're literally watching a romcom, eating take-out, and wearing Spencer's clothes, with Spencer. Shit, he literally could've put on the Conjuring for all you cared and your whole body would still tingle at the fact that you guys basically look like a married couple right now.

You're awoken by Spencer laying you softly into his bed, putting you under the covers. "You didn't even make it halfway," he smiles at you as he stands back up. "Goodnight, (y/n)."

He begins to head towards the door when you ask, "Where are you going?"

"To the couch."

"Why?"

"Uh, do you not want me to?"

"I think I'd feel safer if you..you know..slept in here with me."

"Okay."

Well that was easy, you thought. He climbs into bed beside you, and your breath catches at the sudden proximity. Sure, it's probably the same distance away you were from him on the couch but it seems so much closer when you're laying in bed together.

You lay in silence for a moment, his eyes roaming around your face before settling back onto your eyes. He opens his arms and whispers, "Come here."

You happily do as commanded and as soon as you get within reach, he greedily closes his arms around you, pulling you in as tight as he can. You rest your head on his chest and take a deep breath as his almond and lavender scent fills your lungs.

His hand rubs lazily up and down your spine, causing you to relax even further into his embrace. For once in your life you feel truly, utterly safe.

"I love you too, by the way." He whispers as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

You snap your head up and stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. "What?"

"You heard me." He smirks, using a hand to pull your head back down into his chest.

"I, also, love you too." You whisper, not even bothering to fight the smile that appears on your face.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd

[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Part. 5)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Depression, heartbreak

I woke up a week later in the ICU of the med bay. My wrists bandaged and a tube down my throat. Steve was by my bedside. His hand holding mine. He looked tired. I tried to squeeze his hand and his face shot up to mine. I could feel myself falling unconscious again. 

I woke up and the tube was gone. I could hear people talking but all I could feel was burning in my chest and all I could think about was Bucky. 

“She needs to rest. She needs a psych evaluation before we do anything else” Dr. Cho said.

“Buc-Bucky. Where is Bucky?” I barely got out. My voice was gone. 

“Y/n. Oh thank god.” Nat was at my side now.

“I need Bucky. Is he okay?” Nat looked sad at my question.

“Nat what is it? Is he okay-”

“He’s alive. He hasn’t left his room in six days. No one has seen him. He doesn't eat. He doesn't leave his room.” She said softly. That was it. I’m going to him. I pulled on my IV and yanked on my heart monitor.

“Y/n stop. You are going to hurt yourself!” Steve said, trying to push you back on the bed. The heart monitor flatlined. I tried to push him off of me but I was weak.

“I need to see him.” I begged. 

“I need him…” I started to cry. The pain in my chest was nothing compared to the feeling in my heart. 

“He needs me… why hasn't he come to see me?” The tears started to flow.

“He thought you were going to die. We all did. I can’t begin to describe it…” I waited for him to finish. 

“I found you laying in a pool of blood with a knife sticking out of your chest, wrists slit. Bucky standing over you. I knocked him out and carried you to the jet. You weren't breathing. Thor dragged Bucky to the jet. No one could look at him. We thought he killed you he almost did-’

“No he didnt” I said, upset that Steve felt so deeply about seeing me this way.

“Y/n he almost did-”

“No he didn't. I did it to myself.” I said flatly. 

“ I couldn’t let him do it. He wouldn’t recover. I tried to kill myself. Now let me see him.” I said. Steve nodded. Nat proceeded to cry and tell me how it felt to see my bloody body laying on the jet floor and Bucky's unconscious one next to me. She thought they lost both of us. 

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get you some food.” I nodded, grateful she was leaving. This was my chance to get to Bucky's room. It wasn’t far. The elevator was next to the med bay and his room was ten floors and one room over. I just needed to get to the elevator. I stood up on wobbly feet. The pain in my chest was there but bearable. I was definitely on some good pain killers. I slowly made it to the elevator still in my hospital gown and I had to hold onto everything. As soon as I got to the elevator I grabbed on to the railing and pressed Bucky’s floor. Our floor. 

I saw drops of blood on the floor but it wasn;t too much. I must have ripped a stitch. I made it to his door and I knocked. No answer. I knocked again and again. 

“Steve. Leave.” I kept knocking. Finally he got up and ripped the door open. He went to speak but he stopped when he saw me.

“Not Steve.” I smiled. He didn’t move a look of shock on his face. 

“I need to lay down please don’t make me stand here.” He didn’t hesitate scooping me up and laying me gently on the bed. 

“You shouldn't be here. You need to rest.” He said concerned. 

“Not without seeing you-”

“Why would you want to see me? I did this to you.” He said with his hand over his face.” He looked rough. His eyes were sunken in and his hair was greasy. He obviously hadn't been eating or showering.

“I did this to myself. This was my mistake-’

“How can you say that! I put a knife into your chest. You told me this was a bad idea. I should have listened. I’m a monster. I did this to you-”

“No you didn’t. I did it to myself.” I cried, trying to grab his hand but he shook me off. 

“Stop saying that. This wasn’t you fault. How are you defending me-”

“Because I did it. I took that knife and I slit my wrists and then I stabbed myself in the chest.” I said bluntly. 

“I did this. Not you. Not anyone else.” There were tears in his eyes. 

“I couldn't let them do it to you, James. I couldn’t let you kill me, you wouldn't survive it. I did what was right for both of us. I made peace with my decision.” I said, wiping the tears away. Grabbing his hand and this time he let me.

“You tried ot kill yourself to spare me pain?” I nodded. He started to cry. 

“I can’t do this.” He said getting up. His hand left mine.

“Do what?” You said confused.

“Us.” He said composing himself. What?

“What are you talking about? I said it wasn’t your fault. It was mine! We are together, forever. That's all that matters.” You pleaded with him. 

“I can’t. I don’t want this. I need you to leave.” You stared at him. Tears in your eyes. 

“Jarvis tell Steve to get y/n she's in my room.” I kept crying. A minute later Steve walked in. He looked sad and disappointed. He looked like he pitied me. 

“No. I’m not leaving.” You said and you backed up to the headboard of the bed. Bucky backed up his back hitting the wall. 

“You need to rest.” He said and he came closer to me. 

“No! No!” You screamed. He put his hands under my legs and lifted me. I couldn't really fight back but I cried and cried. 

“Bucky don’t do this. I love you. You said you wouldn't leave me.” I begged but Steve started to walk toward the door. I put my hand on my chest hyperventilating. The pain in my chest was like no other. From heartbreak or the stab wound I don't know. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” I whispered. 

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” I drifted off in Steve’s arms. Drops of blood stained the floor. 

“That was the last time I saw him.” You stated. 

“Bucky.” Dr. Daley said. You looked at her confused.

“His name. Bucky. You need to say it.” You hadn’t said his name since that night. You couldn’t say it. It haunted you. 

‘You didn’t speak for a week, y/n. You cut everyone off. You didn’t leave your bed or eat. That’s not normal behavior-”

“What was I supposed to do?” You countered. 

“No, genuinely, what was I supposed to do? Get up and smile and laugh and pretend my world didn’t end? I was supposed to joke and mingle and go back to the way things were? That will never happen.” You said angry. . 

“You're supposed to live your life. You survived, you are supposed to live your life.” She said, You could tell that this was the breaking point. This was the test. 

“What was I supposed to do when that life is no longer worth living” 

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

post kryptonite arc for Luther

Luthor sends a gift to Conner which has a gift card that reads “here’s your baby blanket -love lex”

Conner: what

the Kent’s who are just vibing in the background: oh what’s it sweetie?

Conner: Lex sent me my baby blanket, wasn’t.. wasn’t I a test tube baby?

the Kent’s: honestly no idea ‘Kon sweetie I don’t know’

Conner: it’s a really nice blanket?? I just am so confused.

later a fair month later

Luthor rocks up to the Kent’s house and knocks on the door, it opens.

luthor: Son, I am so sorry for everything I’ve done, but I have to check your health and make sure your DNA isn’t dissolved or something.

Conner who opened the door since the Kent’s were out

Conner: Lex. *conner crosses his arms* go away.

Luthor: yeah, I know I’m not the best parent I could be. But I do need to make sure your genetic code isn’t compromised or something, you really should be testing for it every 2 weeks. It’s been 3 years, I just want to make sure my son is okay. *lex gives Conner puppy dog eyes*

Conner: you made me in a test tube I’m more superman’s son then yours.

luthor: I literally carried you for 12 months, I was there the day you were born was superman there when you took your first breath? first steps? Spoke your first words? No he wasn’t I was. Your as much my son as he is.

Conner: *completely baffled* what?

luthor: uh, don’t you know how difficult it is to make an artificial womb that WORKS? It was actually way easier to just carry you to term.

Conner: WAIT, WHAT?

luthor: I could not trust a random woman to carry something so precious, uh so I did obviously? *lex rolls his eyes* it’s way easier to just make a man have a kid than make an artificial womb, you know how hard it is to make one of those right? It’s genuinely harder than making any advanced ai or anything and when it’s easier and healthier and most importantly SIGNIFICANTLY CHEAPER to just carry a clone to term you do it. I don’t know what those justice league characters said to you but no it’s just so much work.

Conner: YOU WHAT?

Luthor: yeah obviously, why did you think half your dna came from me?

Conner struggling between retching or crying just stares

luthor: oh you don’t believe me, wait I have a few pictures in my wallet.

*lex shows conner an adorable candid shot of baby Conner playing with some blocks, and a photo of what looks like Lex in a hospital gown holding a tiny Conner, and one more of Lex showing Conner mercy and making Conner wave to her*

Conner: *shocked*

luthor: anyway why would I hurt my son after all? Seems kind of well, not even acceptable or useful. Honestly I just want to make sure you’re not dying. Those justice people are so bad at making sure people are healthy especially someone so unique as you son.

Conner: wait, does that mean your technically my mother?

luthor: yeah, doesn’t matter though does it?

Conner: my birth mother is you.

luthor: yeah obviously

Conner: well now I have a answer to all those pesky questions about who’s my birth mother, do you mind if I just call you lex because it’s gender neutral and no one will ask questions.

luthor: sure? Please son let me test your blood.

Conner: why did you put me in a test tube then?

luthor: ever heard of sudden infant death syndrome? Also I thought if I force grew you to adulthood you wouldn’t have to suffer through hormonal problems and all that, since you’re not exactly a stable organism I thought I’d save you from that hell. But yeah in retrospect it was pretty cruel to rob you of your childhood. You were a really cute baby though.

Conner: I have no idea what to do with this information.

luthor: so, *quickly pricks and draws Connor’s blood* I’ll be back in 2 weeks.

conner: WAIT YOUR JUST GOING TO LEAVE???

Luthor: yeah, see you in a fortnight bye son!

prev | current | next

[thevampiremarie]

Summertime Sadness (part 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

-

Now: Nothing can stop Ghost from going to you Then: Simon asks you why you're in therapy

NOW

Ghost POV

-

Ghost is arguing with the nurse at the front desk when the screaming starts.

She won’t let him in to see you. He was about as polite as he could muster for any medical professional in scrubs at the beginning, but a scowl grew deeper and deeper under his mask with every denial. She said you weren’t taking visitors at this time and asked him to leave. And then the nurse switched her story and claimed you were too busy. He went back and forth with the nurse a few times, resolutely holding his ground. Ghost needed to see you, even if he didn’t know why.

And then he hears it. Howling. Plaintive wails, over and over again, rising like the wind and then stopping long enough for the sufferer to cough and clear their throat. More crying, more screaming.

Ghost recognizes who that is. “Simon!” You sob, your hoarse, despairing voice muffled by the thick walls of concrete separating you from him.

He hears you blubber incoherently and someone tries to soothe you. The tosser is doing a horrid job at it. When you scream out once more, begging for your childhood friend, the pain and suffering you add to Ghost’s name makes him feel like he’s just been shot in the chest with a hollow point bullet. Each horrible noise is a shard of the casing digging further into his heart. Wounds like that can’t be mended.

It sounds as if someone is torturing you or something, maybe holding a red-hot poker to your face. Ghost would know what that sounds like. He’s lost count at this point how many people he’s had to hurt. It never bothered him, whether they deserved it or not. Those men, women, and young boys were just the poor bastards unlucky enough to end up on the wrong side of his knife. Or staring down the barrel of his pistol. Or at the end of a rope hooked over a water pipe in the ceiling.

But the knowledge that it’s you that is being hurt bothers him a whole lot.

Ghost snaps when the sounds suddenly stop.

The quiet is always worse than the screaming. Birds go quiet in the forest when a predator moves among them. People go quiet when they die and have nothing left to give him.

Nothing will stop him from getting to you. Nothing. Not even God himself.

He bodily sets the nurse aside without so much as a word and is through the double doors in an instant. Ghost’s timing is perfect - a staff member in blue scrubs is on his way out and all Ghost needs to do is charge past him.

Like a shark following the scent of blood, he tracks where the screaming was with unerring precision. There are many doors here, but he knows which one is hiding you.

It’s the third one on the left.

The nurses try to stop him. They chatter noisily in his ear about “Sir, you’re not allowed to be here” and “Sir, please stop and return to the waiting room”, or “If you don’t leave this area immediately, we’ll call security.” Let security come, Ghost thinks. Good fucking luck. The poor bastards will need it.

But this isn’t about them. This is about you, and whatever the hell it is they’re doing to you.

When he forces the door open, he sees you thrashing and twisting in the hospital bed. The orderlies have managed to restrain you, pinning your limbs down with straps. Someone rights the IV pole you must have knocked over.

Ghost will remember the agonized expression on your face until the day he dies.

Your skin is soaked with a shiny mixture of sweat and tears, and fresh blood bubbles up under the bandages on your wrists and soaks through the paper gown covering your thighs.

Crimson flowers bloom in your sclera from burst blood vessels and the air reeks of vomit and the acrid tang of fear.

A nurse with cold, narrowed eyes reconnects your IV line to the port in the crook of your elbow, callously wiping away excess blood with a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol. That shit stings you and he feels sympathetic pain scrape across his skin.

“What’s wrong with her,” Ghost demands through bared teeth, hissing like a snake about to strike. “What the fuck is going on.”

Your eyes roll back in your head until you sag limply to the sweat-soaked mattress. “We told you she wasn’t taking visitors at this time. She’s in acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. You need to leave.”

“‘M not going anywhere. You’re fuckin’ torturing her. Stop it.” Ghost moves closer to you, close enough that if you’d just open your eyes, you’d recognize him. He hasn’t been this close to a person outside of work in years. “Leave her alone. I said-“

“Right now, she’s a danger to herself and others. The restraints stay until… it passes.”

You give up on the screaming in favor of piteous, gut-wrenching crying. Your body wants to curl up on its side and hide, you want to tuck your head under your arms and make it all go away, Ghost can tell.

He calls your name as he takes one of your shaking hands in his. Ghost calls your name one more time, resisting the urge to shake your shoulders and force you to open your eyes and look at him, goddamnit.

But there’s nothing he can do.

Ghost can only kneel here in a room that reminds him more of a morgue than it does a hospital and feel your weak pulse in your wrist and hope that he never feels it stop.

Finally, your lips twitch and move as if you’re chanting words under your breath. You’re hallucinating.

I’m sorry. Simon. Simon. Come back. I’m scared. Pick up the phone. Please. I’m sorry. Simon. Help me. Don’t leave me here alone. I need you. They never came back for me and you’re all I have. Call me back when you can.

-

10 YEARS AGO

Reader POV

-

You’re not entirely sure why Simon fascinates you so much. This place has no shortage of brooding, crotchety, “Rebel Without A Cause” types. If anything, you’re the odd one out amongst thirty other kids because you don’t wake up in the morning wanting to cause property damage or sulk in the corner during group therapy.

But sometimes when he’s sulking in the corner during anger management classes, his grimace turns into a softer, sadder expression and he looks lost, even scared, and you just feel that… He’s different. Simon could be a million different things if he wanted to, as long as there was someone who didn’t give up on him.

It’s with this mission in mind that you sit next to him during lunch with your tray of a sad-looking hamburger but surprisingly delicious crispy fries. “Why don’t you like it here?”

Simon glares at you for interrupting his riveting contemplation of an uneaten apple. You shrug it off and start working on your fries. Maybe he has a stomachache.

When it’s clear that you’re more involved with your food than you are with his “I hate you” vibes, he deigns to answer. “‘Cause I don’t belong. Don’t even fuckin’ know why they shipped me here,” The boy grumbles in a thick British accent as he runs a hand through his short white-blonde hair.

You try not to look at the scars on his hands. For one thing, it’s rude.

The faded marks aren’t quite in the right place to be self inflicted.

You wordlessly hold out a fry. Simon inspects it for a few moments as if he suspects poisoning. He takes it without looking at you and a shiver runs through you when his fingers press against yours.

“The more you fight the program, the harder it will be to get discharged. If you wanted advice. Sorry. You don’t need my advice. I didn’t mean to give you that impression-“ As you ramble, you unintentionally rip the fry you’re holding into tiny little bits of crumbly potato.

Simon cuts you off. “You talk too much,” He says flatly.

That’s it. You must be the biggest idiot in the world. Why did you have to embarrass yourself in front of a cute boy, of all people?

You stare at the sad, torn chunks of potato and feel a strange kinship with them. “…I guess.” You shouldn’t have said anything at all.

After a minute, the boy next to you sighs.

“Thanks. For the tip.”

“We gotta look out for each other,” You say with a smile, perking right up again.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Simon doesn’t like to sit like a normal person. He’s hunched weirdly on the chair with one knee up and the other leg sprawled out on the ground. His limbs are simply too tall to dangle.

As you watch him rest his chin on his knee, you can see vertebrae move under the skin on the back of his neck. Fine, downy baby hairs trail hazy and soft from his hairline.

You look away with a loud cough and bright red face. “I’m not. Technically, they shipped me here, too. I almost sat in the cargo section of the plane across the Atlantic.”

A brief flash of envy flickers in his eyes as he sits up straight.  “That far away? And you don’t wanna go home?” Simon speaks like if he could, he’d grow wings and fly far, far away from here. Not just the facility, but everything. He’d like New York, you think. He’d fit right in. The coarse British scowl thing he has going on would scare off any ornery New Yorker.

“I mean… It's not so bad here. Not for me, at least. There isn’t much to do at home so I might as well do this.”

When Simon gestures towards your completely untouched burger, you push the plate towards him. “You seem normal. Why are you here?” He asks around a mouthful of crumbs, spewing saliva everywhere. Like every teenage boy, his metabolism must be through the roof and he eats as if the food is about to run away from him.

“It’s really, like, not that interesting. I promise. You don’t care.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly riveted by the state of your cuticles.

Simon burps. Gross. “Fine, then I don’t.”

You wrinkle your nose and wave your hand performatively. He almost laughs. Almost. Like a baby laugh. One third of a laugh.

This isn’t a good subject for you to laugh back. Maybe one day the whole thing will be a funny joke you can say over dinner, surrounded by people who love you. It doesn’t feel very funny right now. It… hurts.

“No- no… sorry. Yeah. Um. My mother decided many years too late that she never wanted kids. So she went… wherever she is now. And then I snapped, or so they told me. My dad thought I would cope with the trauma better here than in our hometown, where I would be reminded of her everywhere. Honestly? Dad was probably just trying to get rid of me. But once I’m better, he promised he would pick me up and we’ll fly home together,” You finish softly.

With unexpected delicacy, Simon has the decency to avert his dark eyes and fiddle with the little gold chain hanging past his sharp collarbones. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It could be a lot worse. I’m lucky.” You smile, imagining thirty years from now when all of this will be simply memories made beautiful and shiny by nostalgia. Your dad will come get you. You’ll go back to America, graduate high school, and go to a fabulous college. Simon can be your lifelong pen pal.

“You are.” His mouth purses as he tugs his sleeves down over his wrists, watching you examine the tan line on your unblemished arm from your watch.

Tagging: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner @johfaam0 @babygirl-panda19 @illyanam1011 @q8852p @loser-alert @vantae-tea @alexisv15 @chessecakelover @allaboutirem0 @darling006 @aloraaaxcrystalzx @berryjuicyy @desideriumlove @aurora-basin @klttypawss @elysian0612

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Counting Stars

Summary: Mel didn't know she would ever get out of the hospital that had become her prison. Year after year she lost everything. But then when she finally got the chance to escape she took it. And all thanks to the man who took down everything in his path to get to his daughter. Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Melanie Summer

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: T

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Guns, Violence, Lies, Pregnancy, talk about forced pregnancies, talk about childbirth, mention of child death, mentions of human experiments, character death, slowish burn, changing POV's

A/N: Did I plan to write this? No. Do I know how often I'm gonna update this? Also no.

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for updates

Counting Stars Masterlist

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

No. 

That was a lie.

It was probably the first time in a long time that he was thinking clearly. His only thought was to get Ellie and get her out of this god forsaken hospital and to safety. 

No matter the costs. 

He should have known they were gonna pull something like that. In what fucking world was he living that people were willing to sacrifice innocent kids?

Deep down he feared that even if Ellie had been given a choice, she would have chosen to go through with it. But he couldn’t think about it now. 

He could not lose her. He could not lose another child. 

He didn’t know how many Fireflies he shot on his way to pediatrics. He didn’t care about how many Fireflies he shot to get to her.  

Deadly calm he took out everyone in his way until he found himself in front of the operation room. Surely they knew he was coming, the gunshots echoing through the whole building. That was good. He wanted them to know what was coming for whoever intended to kill an innocent girl for a chance of a cure. 

As if that shit would really work. 

Even if it would work, it would just be another way for the Fireflies to seek control over everything and everyone.

A noise behind him had him whip his head around, his gun pointing at the intruder, his finger hovering over the trigger. 

It was a woman.

Dressed only in a dirty hospital gown. His eyes scanned her all over, finding both of her wrists bloodied and bruised. She looked sick, no exhausted. 

“Please….” she whispered, one of her hands holding on to the doorway to keep herself upright, her other hand laying protectively on her belly. He inhaled sharply. She was pregnant. 

He didn’t have time for that. He should take care of her. Shoot her right then and there. But something held him back. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath he turned away from her and opened the door to take care of getting Ellie out of there. 

Mel thought she was dreaming at first when she came back to consciousness. 

Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to properly open her eyes at first. 

Gunshots.

There were gunshots outside. 

That must have been what woke her from her deep, medically induced, sleep.

Trying to move her arm she was surprised she could, having been cuffed to the bed for… she couldn’t really remember when her wrists hadn’t been in handcuffs the last time. Even when she was allowed to get out of bed, there was always someone with her. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom by herself. All because of her “important purpose”.

They said it was to keep her safe. 

But she knew that was a lie. 

They were only interested in what was growing inside of her. Her hand shakily found her swollen belly. She thinks she was in the seventh month? She didn’t know how long she had been out. Finally blinking her eyes open, she found that her wrists still were swollen, so it couldn’t be too long. 

But… why wasn’t she handcuffed?

And… why was no one with her?

The gunshots came closer and she groaned as she sat herself up, slipping her legs out of bed, getting up shakily. 

Tears escaped her eyes, when she felt the baby, a girl as she had learned from fucking Marlene, move inside of her. She didn’t know why they kept telling her what sex the baby had when they would take them away from her anyway. 

Some fucking torture, as if keeping her pregnant against her will for… she didn’t know exactly how many years now, wasn’t torture enough. 

She was tired. 

She did not want to be here. But she was all because she trusted the wrong person with her secret. Someone who sold her over some fucking supplies so the Fireflies could keep her as living incubator. 

Because Mel was immune to cordyceps and someone who wasn’t even a real Doctor was telling anyone he could find a cure if he just had enough source material. 

Source Material. 

She wasn’t even a human being to them, just some… thing to get to what they wanted. Or more like dreamed.

Gathering all her strength she waddled over to the door, a sigh of relief escaping her when she found it unlocked. 

A dead Firefly was laying on the floor as she looked inside the corridor.

Her hand held onto the doorway, startled when a man across the floor turned around to her, his gun pointed at her. 

Adrenaline shot through her veins. 

Who was he?

What was he doing here?

“Please,” she whispered, her hand on her belly. She didn’t know what she was pleading for. Her death or his help. 

He just kept looking at her with dark eyes, inhaling sharply. 

After a moment he turned away from her and walked into the operating room, leaving her alone again. 

She leaned her head against the doorway, closing her eyes. 

Her baby kicked again. 

She knew that this most likely would be her only chance. Turning back around she went back into her room in search of some clothing. She had been allowed to go outside a month or so ago, so there should be some shoes and some clothes. 

She heard some gunshots, startling her again, as she got dressed. 

She threw everything she thought she could need, some bottles of water, some food, some medicine, on the bed cloth before she grabbed it to make a makeshift sack out of it. Throwing it over her shoulder she could only hope the man had taken care of all the Fireflies as she slowly made her way out of her prison and down the hall, where she knew the stairs were. 

Joel was carrying his Ellie in his arms down the corridor to the elevator, hoping it would world and bring him down into the parking garage, gun still in his hand hidden from view. He hoped he would find a car he could use to get them the fuck out of here. 

He was about to round the corner to the elevator when he found the woman inside, her hand holding it open for him.

It was her, the pregnant woman from before. 

She was looking up at him with her green eyes, before her eyes flew to the girl in his arms. His jaw twitched. He should have shot her, but something held him back. He continued to look at her, swallowing harshly when he noticed a familiar scar on her temple.

“Will she be okay?” she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, before he gave her a nod. 

“Good. Take her as far away from them as you can,” she nodded at him, stepping back and Joel didn’t know why, but he got into the elevator with her, pressing the button to the underground garage. 

The door opened and the woman was about to step outside, when he told her to wait. 

“Look if there’s someone out there first,” he said. She nodded, taking a careful look around. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone out,” she whispered. 

“Okay,” he nodded, following her out, looking around carefully. The adrenaline was wearing off and his knees were killing him. 

There were some cars here, some looking newer than others. 

The woman was already making her way to one of the cars, batteries charging in front of them.

He knew he should just take Ellie and leave. It was the easier choice really. This woman he just met was nothing to him. Just a random woman he spared while taking down all the Fireflies that only breathed in his dau… Ellie’s direction. 

A woman with at least one scar on the same spot as he had one.

“You can’t keep her safe forever,” he turned around, finding Marlene walking towards him, her gun pointed at him. 

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she's gonna grow up, Joel. And then you'll die. She'll leave. Then what? How long till she's torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved,” Marlene said. 

Maybe she would have gotten through to him months ago, before the girl in his arms became his whole world. 

But that Joel didn’t exist anymore. He looked at Ellie in his arms.

“Maybe. But it isn't for you to decide,” he said. He saw Marlene’s eyes focus on something behind him, most likely the pregnant woman, yet he didn’t dare to turn around. And a weird case of panic took over his body. He had to protect her. Them. Ellie and the woman.

“Or you. So what would she decide, huh? 'Cause I think she'd wanna do what's right. And you know it. It's not too late. Even now... even after what you've done. We can still find a way,” Marlene lowered the gun, seemingly feeling safe that she was getting through to him. 

She should have known better.

Mel had lowered her makeshift sack on the ground when she heard Marlene’s voice. 

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, still covered behind the car, hoping the woman hadn’t seen her. Taking a deep breath she looked around for something she could use as a weapon, almost crying out in relief when she found several guns on the backseat of the car.

After checking if they were loaded she decided that it was time to end this for all time. She did not want to be on the run for the rest of her life, hoping that the man had taken care of as many of these so-called saviours as possible. 

She listened to Marlene trying to convince the man to make the right choice. To let the girl go. That they could still find a way. 

Mel was used to their talks. Before Marlene there was Wyatt who told her the same lies over and over. As if she had a choice in their scheme.

“Why do you get to decide what is right?” she stepped next to the man, her gun pointed at Marlene who somewhat looked surprised at her, her gun pointing back up.

“Do you think it’s right what you did to me? What you wanted to do to his child? Does it make you feel better if you keep telling yourself all those lies?!”

“I am not lying. You both are the key to ending all of this,” Marlene insisted. 

Mel shot Marlene’s leg, making the man next to her flinch. 

“Fucking liar!” she screamed, getting closer to her, only stopped when the man came to stop in front of her. She looked at him, her gun still pointed at Marlene who was groaning in pain. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to end this,” Marlene wheezed. 

“Sacrifices?” Mel scoffed, stepping around the man so she could look Marlene into her eyes. “What kind of sacrifices did you have to make? Huh?”

Marlene glared at Mel.

“Is that what you call making me go through five pregnancies and taking my babies away from me as soon as they were out to experiment on them? To kill them?”

Something broke in Joel when he heard those words coming from he woman next to him 

“But you won’t have this baby. And you won’t have her either,” she said, before shooting Marlene again, this time in the stomach. She turned around, catching Joel’s eyes as she made her way back to the car. 

Joel decided to follow her, not seeing Marlene as a big threat at the moment. 

“You're gonna regret this. You gonna fucking regret this,” Marlene hissed after them but they weren’t listening. The woman helped him lie Ellie carefully on the backseat. 

“Get into the passenger's seat,” he murmured at her and she looked at him. 

“You sure?” she asked. Against all odds he found himself nodding, checking Ellie for one last time before he went back to Marlene.

“No, wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Marlene pleaded, “Please. Let me go.”

“You'd just come after her,” he said, not knowing if he meant Ellie or the woman, or both, before he shot her. 

It was after passing the sign that he made it out of Salt Lake City that he felt like he could breathe again. 

“Peanut?” she asked and he turned his head as the woman held up a can of salted peanuts. 

“Sure,” he mumbled and she gave him a small smile, letting some peanuts fall in his outreached hand. 

“I’m Mel by the way,” she introduced herself. He didn’t even realise that he hadn't known her name until this very moment. 

“Joel. I’m Joel,” he said and she smiled at him. 

“Thank you for saving our life, Joel,” she whispered, her hand on her belly and he noticed another scar on the back of her hand that mirrored his own.  

He gulped, his eyes back on the road again. 

“You’re welcome.”

[hexedwinchester]

My two cents on Walker 4 x 12

**spoiler alert**

Cassie's "you're a medic, help him" was heart breaking. She looks so pissed at Cordi, I hope she gives him the antidote if it comes to that

Go Barnett.. oh no James! Go James!

Cordi in hospital gown... awww! My precious baby! Someone drape a blanket over him and bring him some soup, right now!

Now the family shows up! Again, only Liam seems genuinely concerned. 10 brownie points to Liam for caring

Stella Blue that is no way to talk to Daddy Cordell. Apologize!

Geri, stop talking

How and why are Cordi and Cassie back on the job. Who cleared them? Where's the psych evaluation when you need one?

Abby, you are more worried about a wilting fig than your own son? why aren't you out there guns blazing? You would have if it were Hoyt or Liam! Abby bear doesn't care :(

The Jackal interrogation was intense. Always a treat to watch Jared Padalecki angrily flip a chair. Turned on!

Loved how they played the previous episode into this

Ranger Barnett to Coach Barnett?? Yes!!

Ohhh that profile shot of Cordi right before the elevator doors opened!! you know which one I'm talking about ;)

The Stella-Cordi moment at the end was sweet. NEED MORE OF THAT!

Geri is nicer to Cass than she is to Cordi. I know Geri and Cordi are probably headed there, but I don't want him to end up with her. She doesn't deserve him

And finally how great were the soundtracks?!

[mintymarabell]

Rescued by the stars

A/n: in all honesty, I’ve never been good at writing slow burns and this is one of my firsts. I hope I didn’t make the names too cheesy. :)

Word count; 2,354

They always said that when you die, it all goes black. However, from her little spot to which she had crawled off, there was a hill. Her bloody trail led up to the hill where she lay on her stomach at the top. The morning sun was warm on Adelaine’s chilling skin. In the distance, she saw a beautiful white dove, but there was no clue how it got out to those parts of the world. Its beauty rivals even the sun's. Maybe she really was dying, and it was just a hallucination. Maybe it actually was a random dove out in the middle of the desert. Maybe…

Adelaine jolted awake at the roar of an engine, and her injuries ached at the sudden movement. Looking forward, she was met with big feet. She looked up, and her neck throbbed at the motion. There stood a man in silver armor. "Are you another hallucination?" Her voice came out hoarse as she rested her head on the sand below her.

"Quite the opposite, little ooman."

Before Adelaine could get another word in, the man had hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her as if she were a child. Her vision became blurry as the man walked into a vehicle of some sort, laying Adelaine down on a hospital bed to stick needles into her paling arms. "What are you doing?" she spoke with weariness.

"Saving your life." the man said.

Those were the last words Adelaine heard before the world around her went black.

Days had passed since she last saw the white dove in the desert. Adelaine had no memory of what happened after the random man had injected her with the needles, but now she found herself in a clean, sterile room. The beeping of machines and the feel of the softness of a hospital bed beneath her. Her head throbbed, and her body ached, but she was alive.

She looked around in confusion. Adelaine had just been on the sandy floor, and now she was in a bed with pillows littered around her. Groaning, she sat up, and heronce immobile joints popped at the motion. The room she sat in was purely white, and the lights above her head shone brightly, worsening her approaching headache. With hesitance, she took a hold of one of herIV's, slowly pulling them out of her vein. As she reached into her hospital gown to tear off the electrodes that stuck to her chest, the heart monitor flatlined, making a loud consistent blaring sound. In the distance, Adelaine could hear heavy footsteps hitting the floor. The door to the room slid open, revealing that same man who was now lacking his metallic mask. She screamed as she looked at his horrifyingly ugly face. It wasn't human; it had four mandibles and beady eyes. The thing jolted at Adelaine’s now conscious screaming state, and it took a moment before he slowly approached with his hands in the air.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the man tried to reason as he backed up to the headboard of the bed.

"Why do you look like that?" she asked.

The man gave her a blank stare, like she just told him a boring story. "Why do you look like that?" the man shot back as he perked up. With his hands on his hips, the alien scolded Adelaine, throwing her arms up in the air as the man approached. “Maybe don’t pull your IV’s out while I'm trying to keep you alive. My father would kill me if he found out I got you killed,” he spoke, mumbling the last part as his eyes widened slightly. Adelaine’s voice held curiosity as her brow raised. “Father?”

“Mhmm, my father. He’s been watching you for over a year, and when he saw you hurt in that desert, he made me come get you,” the alien said, taking the Adelaine’s arm in his hand to examine the bruising. “Is he here? How did he know I was hurt? Why is he watching me?” The alien sighed as he walked over to a counter to pull a cream out of the cabinet above it. “He isn’t here; he's on the mothership. The only reason he knew you were hurt was that he has other people watching you. He just trusted me enough not to hurt you, seeing as I’m the only oomanologist on the ship,” he spoke as he walked back to her, opening the container and putting some cream on his finger before spreading it on the Adelaine’s arm.

She was in disbelief, a mothership? Did that mean they were on a ship? In the middle of space? And what was an oomanologist? “You most likely want to shower, yes?” Snapping out of her trance, Adelaine looked toward the alien, who was at the end of the bed. She nodded, swinging her feet off the bed and shifting till she was at the edge. Hopping off of the bed, her legs almost buckled at the unexpected height.

The alien guy sighed as he motioned for Adelaine to follow him. He took her out of the room, through the halls. One of the walls was made of glass, the black space meeting her gaze. She couldn’t believe it; she really was out in the middle of nowhere. “We should be only an hour away now,” the alien's voice echoed through the gray ship walls. Adelaine said nothing, choosing to stare off into the window as she walked.

They arrived in a room, and the door slid open to reveal a modern bathroom. The alien rummaged through a closet-type nook that sat in the corner near the door, handing over two towels, shampoo, and conditioner. He then shut the door, leaving Adelaine alone with nothing but her thoughts and some random buzzing.

Adelaine hated the silence, always had. Memories of being trapped in a dark room while being tied to a chair flooded her mind, and she could still remember the burn of the ropes around her wrists. That was years ago, back when she was fresh out of high school and had nothing better to do than sign her life away.

Beat for information. Information she didn’t have. Adelaine shivered at the thought, walking over to the showers and throwing the towel down, setting the shampoo and conditioner on the floor. She slightly fiddled with the buttons on the wall under the showerhead, pressing one that was just a few lines turned the water on, steam rising to the air, and the beginning of fog crept onto the mirror. She relieved herself of the hospital gown, letting it gather at her ankles.

As she stepped into the shower, she sighed, the hot water soothing the ache in her back and the crick in her neck. She had needed this, been needing this for a long time. She took the time to look down at her stitched up stomach, she hissed as the water finally hit the inflamed area.

She was not sure how much time passed but what Adelaine did know was that she was in the middle of nowhere basically. She hurried up with her business, scrubbing at her scalp to rid it of the last remains of the conditioner. Adelaine eswiped the towel from the toilet lid, wrapping her hair up in it. She pushed on of the buttons. The water didn’t turn off, instead gaining pressure. She jumped slightly at the change, frantically pressing at the buttons to get it to turn off to which it finally did.

As she dried herself off she looked around. What had he expected her to wear? He had given her no clothes.. Adelaine sat back down on the toilet, wrapped in nothing but a towel as she looked around. Would he even hear if she poked her head out the door and called for him? Knowing nothing else she got up and walked to the door, it slid open with haste revealing a pair of clothes neatly folded on the ground.

Adelaine looked around, bending over to get the clothes she hurried back inside the bathroom.

After scurrying to put the clothes on she stepped out of the bathroom, the sound of her feet echoed as she walked down the hallway looking for the man. The hallways were grey, the ceiling high with strong white lights that were almost designed to give people headaches. The hall was aligned with 4 doors, Adelaine found her peeking her head in each one. A kitchen, living space, and spar room. She stood at the last door, at the end of the hall, as she stepped closer it slid open to reveal a cockpit.

There in the chair sat the same man Adelaine had come accustomed to.

“We are just ten minutes away from yautja prime.” He spun in his chair to face her, Adelaine’s brows furrowed at the information. “Yautja prime?” He sighed as he pulled up a chair. “Take a seat.”

As she sat down in the chair beside him, now that Adelaine wasn’t drowsy she could finally take in the appearance of the behemoth in front of her. He was beautiful in color to say the least, he was a dark maroon like red with splotches of brown up his stomach that ended at his chest. His palms were a lighter maroon. He had multiple charms and such in his dread like hair and his eyes were a beautiful dark green. Adelaine quickly snapped out of it as the man began to talk.

From there he went on to explain what yautja prime was and who it housed. He had spoken about yautja being creatures of honor who hunted and strived to find a ‘worthy prey’.

After his whole spiel was over Adelaine was almost awestruck. It was so much to take in. As if he heard her thoughts he spun toward the control panel, “we have arrived.” Her head turned toward the glass wall that gave a beautiful view of a reddish orange like planet.

The yautja spoke something in his language as the ship ascended into the planet's clouds, there was minor turbulence as the ship shaked slightly before leveling itself out again. The ship was flown to an airport like place similar to earth. As it landed inside of a hefty hanger Adelaine stood up, the yautja also stood as he walked off after flipping a bunch of switches that likely turned the engines off. “Let's go, I will take you to the place you’ll be staying.” Adelaine hummed in response as she followed behind. “What is this guy's name?” She asked as she finally caught up to him, his strides long and swift. “Van’tall, my own name is Kher’k.” He spoke as he surveyed their surroundings for what seemed to be the fourth time. Adelaine sighed as he walked faster, the new names she was dealt were formed on her tongue trying to get used to the pronunciation.

They had walked for what seemed like forever, weaving in and out of crowds and ducking through alleyways to get around traffic. By the time we had stopped the soles of her feet were practically barking. They had arrived at the gates of a large house. The yautja stopped to punch in a code, Adelaine chose to rest against the very tall black metal fence as the gates swung open with a graceful like pace. She stood from her spot and walked with the yautja up the driveway.

“This is my fathers home, he isn’t here right now but he will be in a few weeks. You will be staying here.” He paused as he put another code into the door, pushing it open. The door was huge, easily towering over her form. “You can make yourself at home, in one of the bedrooms are clothes. They should be your size or at least a little bigger.” She stopped, “was he planning on me coming here or something?” the yautja stepped back outside of the door. “Yes, but moving on. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen and servants come by to clean. If you need anything there is a phone in the living room, ok bye.” He talked fast, slamming the door shut as soon as he was done. Adelaine stood there dumbfounded. What was she supposed to do? She hadn't even met the guy and yet she was staying in his home.

The house itself was beautiful, the front door opened up to two big staircases and a some sort of skeleton in the middle. The walls were all decorated with pictures or paintings of different animals. Adelaine had no clue what to do as she walked around the house, there were many rooms. All doors were just as tall as the front and extremely heavy. She had to push all of her body weight into them just to get them open.

Adelaine walked into the kitchen which was big, marble countertops with white tiled floors. There was a big skull on the counter, likely a centerpiece. As she opened the fridge she was met with an array of different meats and fruits. She picked one of the fruits up, one that resembled a grape from earth. As Adelaine popped it into her mouth the taste was quite different from regular grapes, almost more exotic tasting. She hummed, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Each room was different, there were only two bedrooms. Both bedrooms were identical with the same coloring and appliances, Adelaine claimed one of the bedrooms all but collapsing on the bed. This was kinda nice.